THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BOOKS   BY 

e§btrt  CraDfcock." 

(MARY  N.  MURFREE.) 


IN     THE     TENNESSEE     MOUNTAINS.       Short 

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DOWN   THE  RAVINE.    For  Young  People.    Illu»- 

trated.     i6mo,  $1.00. 
THE      PROPHET     OF     THE     GREAT     SMOKY 

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Novel.     i6mo,  $1.25. 
WHERE     THE     BATTLE    WAS     FOUGHT.      A 

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THE    MYSTERY  OF   WITCH-FACE    MOUNTAIN. 

i6mo,  $  i. 25. 
THE     YOUNG     MOUNTAINEERS.      Illustrated. 

1 2  mo,  $1.50. 
THE  JUGGLER.     A  Novel.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE  JUGGLER 


BY 


CHARLES   EGBERT  CRADDOCK 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


1897 


COPYRIGHT   1897   BY  MARY  N.  MURP 
ALL  RIGHTS   RRSBRVBD 


THE  JUGGLER. 


I. 

MYSTERY  was  not  far  to  seek,  surely.  The  great 
gneissoid  crags  were  moulded  by  the  heat  from  sub 
terranean  fires  in  remote,  unimagined  aeons.  From 
the  deep  coves,  now  so  heavily  wooded,  the  once 
submerging  waters  had  long  ago  ebbefl,  following 
undreamed-of  lures,  drawn  seaward  or  skyward, 
or  engulfed  in  still  lower  depths,  —  who  can  say  ? 
—  leaving  the  ripple-marks  on  their  rocky  con 
fines  to  tell  of  their  being.  In  the  middle  of  the 
bridle-path,  touched  by  every  careless  passing  foot, 
lay  a  splintered  sandstone  slab,  the  fracture  reveal 
ing  a  cluster  of  delicate,  cylindrical,  stem-like 
petrifactions,  thus  preserving,  with  the  comprehen 
sive  significance  of  nature,  so  slight  a  thing  as  the 
record  of  the  life  of  a  worm  long  ages  agone,  in 
these  fossil  traces  of  primordial  vermicular  burrow- 
ings,  here  in  the  midst  of  a  scene  that  was  itself  as 
a  register  of  those  stupendous  revolutions  the  inci 
dents  of  which  were  the  subsidence  of  vast  oceans, 
and  the  emergence  of  continents,  and  the  develop 
ment  of  the  mighty  agencies  that  made  and  lifted 
the  mountains.  All  the  visible  world  gave  token  of 

736^09 


2  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  inexplicable  past  of  creation,  of  the  unrevealed 
future,  —  those  thoughts  of  God  which  are  very 
deep  thoughts.  And  yet,  in  tin-  Muntings  of  daily 
use,  the  limitations  of  dull  observation,  the  un 
questioning  acceptance  of  the  accustomed  routine 
of  nature,  there  might  seem  naught  before  the  eye 
which  was  not  plainly  manifest,  —  mountain,  rock. 
forest,  —  the  mere  furniture  of  existence.  One 
hardly  analyzes  the  breath  of  life  as  it  is  breathed : 
even  when  considered  as  nearly  twenty-one  per 
cent,  of  oxygen  to  seventy -nine  per  cent,  of  nitro 
gen,  are  we  aught  the  wiser,  for  whence  comes  it, 
and  alas,  why  does  it  go?  To  those  creatures  of 
a  day,  busy  with  the  day,  it  seemed  that  mystery 
and  doubt  and  troublous  questioning  had  first 
entered  Etowah  Cove  in  the  guise  of  a  vagrant 
juggler,  their  earliest  experience  of  a  modern 
exponent  of  his  most  ancient  craft. 

The  light  that  timidly  flickered  out  of  the  school- 
house  windows  into  the  bosky  depths  of  the  en 
compassing  wilderness,  one  night,  marked  a  new 
era  in  the  history  of  the  Cove.  It  was  the  first 
"show  "  that  had  ever  been  given  nearer  than  Col- 
bury,  some  forty  miles  distant,  unless  one  might 
make  so  bold  as  to  include  in  the  term  camp-meet 
ings  and  revivals,  weddings  and  funerals.  The 
walls  of  the  little  log  house  had  hitherto  echoed 
naught  more  joyous  than  sermons  and  ""experi 
ence  meetings,"  or  sounds  of  scholastic  discipline, 
or  the  drone  of  the  juvenile  martyr  reluctantly 
undergoing  education.  The  place  had  long  been 


THE  JUGGLER.  3 

closed  to  secular  uses,  for  only  at  infrequent  inter 
vals  was  the  school  opened,  and  a  drought  of  in 
struction  still  held  sway.  To  the  audience  who 
had  been  roused  from  the  dull  routine  of  the  fire 
side  by  the  startling  and  unprecedented  announce 
ment  that  a  stranger-man,  staying  at  old  Tubal 
Cain  Sinis's  cabin,  was  going  to  give  a  "show" 
in  the  schoolhouse,  the  flutter  of  excitement,  the 
unwonted  nocturnal  jaunt  hither,  the  joyous  antici 
pation,  were  almost  tantamount  to  the  delighted 
realization.  The  benches  were  arranged  as  for 
worship  or  learning,  and  were  crowded  with  old 
and  young,  male  and  female,  the  reckless  and 
barefoot,  the  neuralgic  and  shod.  The  men,  un 
kempt  and  unshaven,  steadily  chewed  their  quids 
of  tobacco,  and  now  and  then  spat  upon  the  floor 
and  grinned  at  one  another.  The  women  con 
served  a  certain  graver  go-to-meeting  air,  doubt 
less  the  influence  of  the  locality,  but  were  visibly 
fluttered.  Occasionally  a  big  suiibonnet  turned 
toward  another,  and  whispered  gossip  ensued,  as 
before  the  first  hymn  is  given  out.  The  lighted 
tallow  candles  in  small  tin  sconces  against  the 
walls,  and  a  kerosene  lamp  on  the  table  on  the 
platform,  cast  a  subdued  and  mellow  light  over 
the  assemblage.  It  flickered  up  to  the  brown 
rafters,  where  the  cobwebs  were  many;  it  con 
verted  the  tiny  dirt-incrusted  panes  of  the  windows 
to  mirror-like  use,  and  was  reflected  from  the 
dense  darkness  outside  with  duplications  of  sections 
of  the  audience;  it  shone  full  and  bright  on  the 


4  THE  JUGGLER. 

tall,  athletic  figure  of  the  juggler,  appearing  sud 
denly  and  swiftly  from  a  side  door,  and  bowing 
low  in  the  centre  of  the  platform  with  an  air  of 
great  deference  and  courtesy  to  his  silent  and 
spellbound  audience. 

He  might  have  astonished  more  sophisticated 
spectators.  Instead  of  wearing  the  ordinary  even 
ing  dress  or  the  costume  of  the  Japanese  or  Hindoo, 
according  to  the  usual  wont  of  conjurers,  he  was 
clad  in  a  blue  flannel  shirt  and  a  black-and-n  <1 
blazer,  and  his  blue  knickerbockers  and  long  Mm- 
hose  on  his  muscular  legs  impressed  the  mountain 
eers  as  a  ballet  costume  might  have  done,  could 
they  have  conceived  of  such  attenuations  of  attiiv. 
A  russet  leather  belt  was  drawn  tightly  around  his 
slender  waist,  and  they  gazed  at  him  from  the  tip 
of  his  dark  sleek  red-brown  hair,  carefully  parted 
in  the  middle,  to  the  toes  of  his  pointed  russ.-t 
shoes  with  an  amazement  which  his  best  feat  might 
fail  to  elicit.  His  air  of  deep  respect  reassured 
them  in  a  measure,  for  they  could  not  gauge  the 
covert  banter  in  his  tone  and  the  mockery  in  his 
eyes  as  his  sonorous  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen  "  rang 
forth  in  the  little  building.  And  there  was  some 
thing  more  in  his  eyes  —  of  reddish-brown  tint  like 
his  hair  —  that  the  mockery  and  banter  could  not 
hide ;  for  these  were  transient,  and  the  other  —  a 
thought  with  a  fang.  It  might  have  been  anxiety, 
remorse,  turmoil  of  mind,  fear,  —  one  might  hardly 
say,  —  plainly  to  be  seen,  yet  not  discerned.  B<-- 
low  his  eyes,  above  his  cheek-bones,  that  showed 


THE   JUGGLER.  5 

their  contour,  for  his  face  was  thin,  were  deep  blue 
circles,  and  that  unmistakable  look  of  one  who  has 
received  some  serious  sudden  shock.  But  the  spirit 
of  the  occasion  was  paramount  now,  and  he  was 
as  unconscious  of  the  lack  in  his  accoutrements  in 
the  estimation  of  the  mountaineers  as  they  were 
of  how  the  bare  feet  of  sundry  of  his  spectators 
offended  his  prejudices  in  favor  of  chaussure. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  are  gathered  here 
to  witness  some  of  those  feats  which  are  variously 
ascribed  to  charlatanry,  to  skill  or  sleight  of  hand, 
or  to  certain  traffic  with  supernatural  agencies. 
Those  which  I  shall  have  the  honor  to  exhibit  to 
this  select  audience  I  shall  not  explain;  in  fact," 
with  a  twinkle  of  the  eye,  "  some  of  them  are  inex 
plicable,  and  so  may  they  long  continue !  I  have 
not  thought  best  to  avail  myself  of  the  services  of 
an  assistant,  who  is  generally,  I  grieve  to  say, 
among  most  of  those  of  my  profession,  a  mere 
trickster  and  accomplice,  and  therefore  you  will 
have  the  evidence  of  your  eyes  to  the  fact  that 
every  feat  which  I  perform  this  evening  is  abso 
lutely  genuine." 

His  spirit  of  rodomontade  had  reached  its  limit. 
Perhaps  some  of  the  more  finely  strung  sensibili 
ties  in  the  audience  appraised  the  ridicule  in  his 
intention,  despite  the  masquerade  of  his  manner, 
for  a  glance  of  resentment  kindled  here  and  there ; 
but  before  the  awed  and  open-mouthed  majority 
had  drawn  a  breath  or  relaxed  a  muscle  he  changed 
his  tone. 


6  rilR  JUGGLER. 

"  1  have  selected  a  young  man  from  amongst 
you,"  la-  >aid.  quite  naturally  and  pleasant  1\ .  "to 
aid  me  in  finding  properties,  as  it  were,  for  my 
entertainment ;  for  in  apology  be  it  spoken,  I  am 
not  prepared  in  any  res pee t  for  an  exhibition  of 
this  sort.  He  has,  at  my  request,  borrowed  for 
me  this  bayonet."  He  took  from  the  taldt-  drawer 
the  weapon,  newly  cleaned  and  glistening,  and 
looked  at  it  narrowly  as  he  stood  before  them  on 
the  platform.  "I  should  say  it  has  seen  service. 
Can  this  gentleman  tell  me  whether  it  is  from  a 
Federal  or  a  Confederate  -an  .'" 

He  stepped  down  suddenly  from  the  platform 
and  handed  the  bayonet  to  a  strong-featured. 
stern-looking  old  mountaineer  who  had  earlier  re 
garded  him  with  dawning  disfavor. 

"It's  from  a  Rebel  weepon,"  the  veteran  said 
succinctly. 

"It's  off  a  Yankee  Springfiel',"  a  voice  came 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"  Knfiel',"  said  the  first  speaker  doggedly. 

"  Springfiel  Y'  contradicted  his  invisible  antago 
nist  tersely. 

Once  more,  "EnfielV 

And  again  out  of  the  shadow,  "Springfiel'." 

And  the  juggler  became  aware  that  he  had 
waked  up  the  political  dog  of  the  region. 

"They  are  equally  digestible,"  he  declared,  re 
suming  his  place  on  the  platform.  "I  believe  I  '11 
swallow  it."  And  so  he  did. 

For  one  moment  there  was  an  intense  silence, 


THE  JUGGLER.  7 

while  the  petrified  audience  gazed  in  motionless 
astonishment  at  the  juggler.  Then  arose  a  great 
tumult  of  voices ;  there  was  a  violent  movement  at 
the  rear  of  the  room;  a  bench  broke  down,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  commotion,  with  a  gay  cry  of 
"Hey!  Presto!"  the  juggler  apparently  drew  the 
bayonet  from  out  his  throat  and  triumphantly  held 
it  up  before  the  people. 

An  increasing  confusion  of  sounds  greeted  him. 
Screams  of  delighted  mirth  came  from  the  younger 
portion  of  the  audience,  and  exclamations  hardly 
less  flattering  from  the  laughing  elders.  But  ever 
above  the  babel  terrified  shrieks,  shrill  and  clam 
orous,  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  the  juggler 
frowned  with  sudden  sharp  annoyance  when  he 
distinguished  the  fact  that  an  elderly  woman  was 
crying  out  that  these  were  the  works  of  the  devil,  — 
that  here  was  Satan,  and  that  she  would  not  bide 
easy  till  he  was  bound,  neck  and  heels  together, 
and  cast  forth  into  the  river.  He  was  not  usually 
devoid  of  humane  sentiments,  but  he  felt  vastly  re 
lieved  when  she  fell  into  strong  hysterics,  and  was 
carried,  still  shrieking,  out  to  the  ox-cart,  whence, 
despite  the  closed  doors  and  windows,  over  and 
over  again  those  weird,  unearthly  cries  were  borne 
in  to  the  audience,  as  the  yoking  of  the  steers  for 
the  homeward  journey  was  in  progress. 

The  juggler  was  out  of  countenance.  "Ladies 
and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  with  indignation  coloring 
his  face  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  "these  things  are 
done  for  amusement.  If  they  fail  to  amuse,  they 


8  THE  JUGGLER. 

fail  altogether.     I  will  go  on,  or,  if  you  desire, 
your  money  will  be  refunded  at  the  door." 

"Lawd,  naw,  bub!"  exclaimed  a  toothless  old 
fellow,  bent  nearly  double  as  he  sat  on  a  front 
bench,  his  clasped  hands  between  his  knees.  ""NVe- 
uns  want  ter  view  all  ye  know  how  ter  do,  —  all 
ye  know  how  ter  do,  son." 

Here  and  there  reassuring  voices  confirmed  tin 
spokesman,  and  as  the  discomfited  juggler  turned 
to  the  table  drawer,  resolving  on  something  1« •-- 
bloody-minded,  he  heard  a  vague  titter  from  that 
portion  of  the  building  in  which,  being  young,  he 
had  already  observed  that  the  greater  number  of 
personable  maidens  were  seated. 

None  so  dread  ridicule  as  the  satirist.  He 
whirled  around,  his  heart  swelling  indignantly,  his 
eyes  flashing  fire,  to  perceive,  advancing  down  the 
aisle,  a  fat  woman  in  a  gigantic  sunbonnet,  \vhieh. 
however,  hardly  obscured  her  broad,  creased,  dim 
pled  face,  a  brown  calico  dress  wherein  the  waist 
line  must  ever  be  a  matter  of  conjecture,  and  a 
little  shoulder-shawl  of  bright  red -and -yellow 
plaid.  She  slowly  approached  him  with  something 
of  steel  glittering  in  her  hands,  and  at  his  amazed 
and  dumfounded  expression  of  countenance  the 
girlish  cachinnation  which  he  so  resented  broke 
forth  afresh. 

"Beg  pardon?"  he  said  more  than  once,  as 
from  his  elevation  he  sought  to  catch  her  request. 
A  single  tooth  of  the  upper  register,  so  to  speak, 
however  ornamental,  did  not  serve  to  render  more 


THE  JUGGLER.  9 

distinct  the  fat  woman's  wheeze,  in  which  she 
sought  to  articulate  her  desire  that  he  should  forth 
with  swallow  her  big  shears,  so  fascinated  was  she 
by  the  evidence  he  had  given  of  his  proficiency  in 
the  arts  of  the  impossible. 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure,  —  always  anxious  to 
oblige  the  ladies,"  he  protested,  with  a  return  of 
his  covert  mockery,  as  he  bowed  after  a  dancing- 
class  fashion,  and  received  from  her  fat  creased 
hands  the  great  domestic  implement  with  its  dan 
gling  steel  chain.  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he 
declared,  with  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  as  she  sub 
sided,  shaking  with  laughter,  on  the  front  bench, 
"I  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  my  flattered 
sense  of  this  mark  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  me 
by  this  distinguished  audience,  as  well  as  by  the 
estimable  lady  who  is  so  willing  to  offer  her  shears 
on  the  altar  of  science.  She  is  not  satisfied  with 
the  warlike  bayonet.  She  desires  to  see  the  same 
experiment,  mutatis  mutandis,  on  a  pair  of  shears, 
which  are  devoted  to  the  tender-hearted  and  affable 
uses  of  the  work-basket,  filled  with  the  love  of 
home  and  gentle  fireside  associations,  and  —  and 
—  and  other  domestic  scraps.  The  rivet  is  a  trifle 
loose,  and  I  hope  I  may  not  be  forced  to  disgorge 
the  blades  separately." 

He  was  holding  up  the  scissors  as  he  spoke  these 
words,  so  that  all  could  see  them;  the  next  mo 
ment  they  had  disappeared  down  his  throat,  as  it 
were,  and  the  astounded  audience  sat  as  if  resolved 
into  eyes,  staring  spellbound. 


10  /7//:    JUGULKK. 

When,  a  few  minutes  later,  with  his  cabalistic 
phrase,  "Hey !  Presto !  "  he  drew  from  his  open  red 
mouth  tlu*  shears  dangling  at  the  cud  of  the  rattling 
steel  chain,  which  the  audience  had  just  seen  him 
swallow,  the  clamor  of  exclamations  again  arose, 
for  the  accepted  methods  of  applause  had  not  yet 
penetrated  to  the  seclusions  of  Etowah  Cove ;  but 
there  was  in  this  manifestation  of  surprise  so  defi 
nite  a  quaver  of  fear  that  certain  lines  of  irritation 
and  anxiety  corrugated  the  smooth  brow  of  the 
young  prestidigitator.  The  tumultuous  amazement 
of  the  spectators  seemed  as  if  it  were  too  great  to 
be  realized  all  at  once,  and  with  the  sight  of  the 
performance  anew  of  the  impossible  feat,  which 
should  have  served  as  reassurance,  it  degenerated 
into  downright  terror  which  held  the  possibilities 
of  panic.  The  idea  of  panic  suggested  other  pos- 
siliilities.  AlU-it  their  unsophisticated  state  was 
highly  favorable  to  the  development  of  emotions  of 
boundless  astonishment  and  absolute  credulity,  he 
realized  that  it  was  not  unattended  by  some  per 
sonal  danger.  After  the  suggestion  of  being  bound 
hand  and  foot  and  thrown  into  the  river,  the  jug 
gler  was  more  than  once  unpleasantly  reminded  — 
for  \vi  was  a  man  of  some  reading  —  of  certain  fel 
low  craftsmen  in  the  mists  of  centuries  agone, 
whose  wondrous  skill  in  the  powers  of  air,  earth. 
and  fire,  though  great  enough  to  be  deemed  unlaw 
ful  traffic  with  the  devil,  could  not  avail  to  prevent 
their  own  earthly  elements  from  going  up  in  smoke 
and  flame,  and  thus  contributing  ethereally  to  the 


THE   JUGGLER.  11 

great  reserves  of  material  nature.  He  was  here 
alone,  far  from  help,  among  the  most  ignorant  and 
lawless  people  he  had  ever  seen ;  and  if  their  dislo 
cated  ideas  of  necromancy  and  unlawful  dealing 
with  the  devil  should  take  a  definite  hold  upon 
them,  he  might  be  summarily  dealt  with  as  an  act 
of  religion,  and  the  world  none  the  wiser.  Such 
disaster  had  befallen  better  jugglers,  sooth  to  say, 
in  more  civilized  communities  than  Etowah  Cove. 
He  sought  to  put  this  thought  from  him,  for  his 
heart  was  sufficiently  stout  of  fibre,  but  determined 
that  he  would  not  again  be  diverted  from  his  inten 
tion  of  substituting  less  blood-curdling  feats  for 
the  usual  experiments  with  knives  and  swords. 
He  preserved  a  calm  face  and  debonair  manner,  as 
he  carefully  wiped  the  shears  free  from  suppositi 
tious  moisture  on  a  folded  white  table-cloth  that 
lay  on  the  platform,  and  stepped  down,  and  with 
an  elaborate  bow  presented  them  to  their  chuckling 
and  gratified  owner. 

"Jane  Ann  Sims  wouldn't  keer  if  the  Old  Nick 
hisself  war  ter  set  up  his  staff  in  the  Cove,  ef  he 
hed  some  news  ter  tell  or  a  joke  ter  crack,  or  some 
sorter  gamesome  new  goin's-on  that  she  hed  never 
hearn  tell  on  afore,"  whispered  a  lean,  towering, 
limp  sunbonnet  to  its  starch  and  squatty  neighbor. 

"An'  she  hard  on  ter  fifty  odd  years  old!  "  said 
the  squatty  sunbonnet,  malignantly  accurate. 

As  the  juggler  stepped  back  to  the  platform  he 
took  up  the  table-cloth  and  shook  it  out,  that  they 
might  all  be  assured  that  there  was  nothing  con 
cealed  in  its  folds. 


12  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  taking 
heart  of  grace  and  his  former  manner  of  covert 
half -banter  and  mock  politeness  together,  "we  all 
know  that  it  is  by  the  action  of  the  sun  on  the  soil, 
and  the  dew  and  the  rain,  that  the  seeds  of  plants 
germinate  and  the  green  herb  grows  for  the  service 
of  men.  I  propose  to  show  you  now  a  small  agri 
cultural  experiment  which  I  venture  to  hope  will 
be  of  special  interest  to  this  assembly,  as  most  of 
you  are  engaged  in  the  noble  pursuit  of  tilling  the 
soil,  when  other  diversions  cannot  by  any  means 
be  had." 

As  he  clattered  off  his  sentences,  garnished  now 
and  then  with  trite  bits  of  Latin,  the  solemn, 
stolid,  uncomprehending  faces  ministered  to  a  cer 
tain  mocking  humor  which  he  had,  and  which  was 
now  becoming  a  trifle  bitter  with  the  reluctant 
realization  of  a  lurking  danger. 

"Will  some  gentleman  come  forward  and  tell 
me  what  kind  of  a  seed  this  is?" 

He  held  the  small  object  up  between  his  finger 
and  thumb  for  a  moment,  but  no  one  qpfMNNMlMd. 
He  perceived  in  a  sort  of  helpless  dismay  that  the 
dread  of  him  was  growing.  He  was  fain  to  step 
down  from  the  platform  and  hand  the  seed  to  the 
old  man  on  the  front  bench,  whose  bleared  eyes 
were  glittering  with  delight  in  the  greatest  sensa 
tion  that  had  ever  fallen  to  his  lot ;  for  the  juggler 
judged  that  of  all  the  audience  he  was  nearest  the 
masculine  counterpart  of  the  progressive  Jane  Ann 
Sims.  The  old  man.  in  his  circle,  was  not  a  per- 


THE  JUGGLER.  13 

son  of  consideration  nor  accustomed  to  deference. 
He  was  all  the  more  easily  flattered  to  be  thus 
singled  out  by  the  juggler,  the  conspicuous  cyno 
sure  of  all  eyes,  to  give  his  judgment  and  pro 
nounce  upon  the  identity  of  the  seed.  The  love 
of  notoriety  is  a  blasting  passion,  deadening  all 
considerations  of  the  conformable.  Even  in  these 
secluded  wilds,  even  in  the  presence  of  but  a  hand 
ful  of  his  familiars,  even  in  the  lowly  estate  of  a 
cumberer  of  the  ground,  lagging  superfluous,  it 
smote  Josiah  Cobbs.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  whirled 
briskly  around,  and,  with  a  manner  founded  on 
the  sprightly  style  of  the  juggler,  yet  compounded 
with  the  diction  of  the  circuit  rider,  exclaimed, 
"Yea,  my  brethren,  this  hyar  be  a  seed,  — yea,  it 
be  actially  a  persimmon  seed,  though  so  dry  I 
ain't  so  sure  whether  or  not  it  '11  ever  sot  off  ter 
grow  like  a  fraish  one  might.  Yea,  my  brethren, 
I  ain't  sure  how  long  —  ah  —  this  hyar  persimmon 
seed  he v  —  ah  —  been  kem  out  o'  the  persimmon. 
Yea"- 

He  progressed  not  beyond  this  point,  for  the 
audience  had  no  mind  to  be  entertained  with  the 
rhetoric  of  old  Josiah  Cobbs,  resenting  his  usurpa 
tion  of  so  prominent  a  position,  and  his  presump 
tion  in  undertaking  to  address  the  meeting.  Cer 
tain  people  in  this  world  are  given  to  understand 
that  although  their  estate  in  life  be  not  inferior 
to  that  of  their  neighbors,  humility  becomes  them, 
and  a  low  seat  is  their  appropriate  station.  More 
than  one  sunbonnet  had  rustlingly  communed  with 


14  THE   JUGGLER. 

another  as  to  the  fact  that  Josiah  Cobbs  would 
hardly  be  heard  at  an  experience  meeting,  the 
state  of  his  humble  soul  not  interesting  the  com 
munity.  So  simultaneous  a  storm  of  giggles  s\v«-j>t 
the  cluster  of  girls  as  to  demonstrate  that  tin  ir 
gravity  was  of  the  same  tenuous  quality  as  that  of 
their  age  and  sex  elsewhere.  It  was  wonderful 
that  they  did  not  sustain  some  collapse,  and  this 
furnishes  a  pleasing  commentary  upon  the  strength 
of  the  youthful  diaphragm.  The  men  exchanged 
glances  of  grim  derision,  and  finally  one,  with 
the  air  of  a  person  not  to  be  trifled  with,  rose  up 
and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  bewitched  senl, 
forgetting  for  the  moment  all  his  quondam  qualms 
of  distrust. 

Josiah  Cobbs  rendered  it  up  without  an  instant's 
hesitation.  Precious  as  was  the  opportunity  in  his 
eyes,  preempted  by  his  own  courage,  his  was  not 
the  type  which  makes  resistance.  The  hand  to 
despoil  him  had  hardly  need  to  be  strong.  The 
will  to  have  what  he  possessed  was  sufficient  for 
his  pillage.  He  hardly  claimed  the  merits  apper 
taining  to  the  pioneer.  He  stood  meekly  by  as 
the  seed  was  passed  from  one  set  of  horny  finger 
tips  to  another,  and  the  dictum,  "It's  a  persim 
mon  seed,  stranger,"  was  repeated  with  a  decision 
which  implied  no  previous  examination. 

"A  persimmon  seed,  is  it?"  said  the  juggler 
airily,  receiving  it  bark.  "Now,  gentlemen,  you 
see  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  pail  of  earth  Imt 
good  pulverized  soil."  He  passed  his  fingers 


THE  JUGGLER.  15 

through  the  surface,  shaking  them  daintily  free 
from  the  particles  afterward,  while  the  hands  of 
the  practical  farmers  went  boldly  grappling  down 
to  the  bottom  with  no  thought  of  dirt.  "You  see 
me  plant  this  persimmon  seed.  There!  Now  I 
throw  over  the  pail  this  empty  cloth,  —  let  it  stand 
up  in  a  peak  so  as  to  give  the  seed  air;  now  I 
place  the  whole  on  the  table,  where  you  can  all 
see  it  and  assure  yourselves  that  no  one  goes  near 
it.  While  awaiting  developments  I  shall  try  to 
entertain  you  by  singing  a  song.  It  may  be  un 
known  to  you  —  yet  why  this  suggestion  in  the 
presence  of  so  much  culture  ?  —  that  in  the  days  of 
eld  certain  wandering  troubadours  came  to  be  in 
some  sort  men  of  my  profession.  In  the  intervals 
of  minstrelsy  they  entertained  and  astonished  their 
audiences  with  feats  of  the  miraculous,  —  strange 
exploits  of  legerdemain  and  such  light  pastimes, 
—  and  were  therefore  termed  jongleurs.  I  shall 
seek  to  follow  my  distinguished  Provencal  prede 
cessors  in  the  gay  science  hand  passibus  cequis, 
and  pipe  up  as  best  I  may." 

There  was  a  pause  while  the  juggler,  standing 
at  one  end  of  the  platform,  seemed  to  run  over  in 
his  mind  the  treasures  of  his  repertoire.  The  mel 
low  lamplight  shone  in  his  reflective  brown  eyes, 
cast  down  as  he  twisted  one  end  of  the  long  red- 
brown  mustache,  and  again  thrown  up  as  if  he 
sought  some  recollection  among  the  old  rafters. 
These  had  the  rich  reserves  of  color  characteristic 
of  old  wood,  and  the  heavy  beams  of  oak  showed 


16  THE  JUGGLER. 

all  their  veinous  possibilities  in  yellow  and  brown 
fibrous  comminglements  against  the  deep  uinber 
shadows  of  the  high  peak  of  the  roof.  The  cob 
webs  adhering  here  and  there  had  almost  the  con 
sistency  of  a  fabric,  so  densely  woven  they  were. 
One  pendulous  gauze  fragment  moved  suddenly 
without  a  breath  of  air,  for  a  light  living  creature 
had  run  along  the  brain  beneath  it.  and  now  stood 
looking  down  at  the  audience  with  a  glittering  eye 
and  a  half-spread  bat-like  wing,  — a  flying  squir 
rel,  whose  nest  was  secreted  in  the  king-post  and 
entered  from  the  outside.  So  still  was  the  au 
dience, —  the  grizzled,  unkempt  men,  the  sunbon- 
neted  women,  even  the  giggling  girls  in  the  cor 
ner, —  he  might  have  been  meditating  a  downward 
plunge  into  the  room. 

Then  slightly  frowning,  but  smiling  too,  the 
juggler  began  to  sing. 

It  was  a  cultivated  voice  that  rang  out  in  the 
measures  of  "My  Pretty  Jane,"  —  a  tenor  of  good 
range,  true,  clear,  sweet,  with  a  certain  romantic 
quality  that  was  in  some  sort  compelling  and  effec 
tive.  He  sang  well.  Not  that  the  performance 
would  have  been  acceptable  considered  as  that  of 
a  high-grade  professional,  yet  it  was  far  too  good 
for  a  mere  parlor  amateur.  The  rich,  vibrant 
voice,  without  accompaniment,  —  grotesque  inade 
quacy  to  his  mind,  — filled  the  little  building  with 
a  pathetic,  penetrating  sweetness,  and  the  whole 
method  of  rendering  the  ballad  was  character  i/ed 
by  that  elaborate  simplicity  and  restrained  preci- 


THE   JUGGLER.  17 

sion  so  marked  in  professional  circles,  so  different 
from  the  enthusiastic  abandon  of  the  reckless 
home  talent. 

It  fell  flat  in  Etowah  Cove.  There  were  people 
in  the  audience  who,  if  they  could  not  sing,  were 
intimately  persuaded  that  they  could;  and  after 
all,  that  is  the  essential  element  of  satisfaction. 
The  modulation,  the  delicate  shades  of  expression, 
the  refinement  of  style,  were  all  lost  on  the  major 
ity;  only  here  and  there  a  discerning  ear  was 
pricked  up,  appreciating  in  the  concord  of  sweet 
sounds  something  out  of  the  common.  But  there 
was  no  sign  of  approval,  and  in  the  dead  silence 
which  succeeded  the  final  roulade,  coming  so  trip 
pingly  off,  the  juggler  showed  certain  symptoms 
of  embarrassment  and  discomfiture.  One  might 
easily  perceive  from  the  deft  assurance  of  his  ex 
ploits  of  sleight  of  hand  that  the  value  he  placed 
upon  them  was  far  cheaper  than  his  estimate  of 
his  singing.  It  was  a  susceptible  sort  of  vanity  that 
could  be  hurt  by  the  withheld  plaudits  of  Etowah 
Cove;  but  vanity  is  a  sensitive  plant,  and  requires 
tender  nurture.  He  stood  silent  and  flushing  for 
a  moment,  while  still  a  gentle  fibrous  resonance 
seemed  to  pervade  the  room,  — the  memory  of  the 
song  rather  than  its  echo;  then,  with  a  sudden 
flouting  airy  whirl,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
caught  off  the  cloth  that  had  enveloped  the  pail  of 
earth  containing  the  persimmon  seed  which  he  had 
just  planted.  And  lo!  glossy  and  green  and  lus 
trous  in  the  light,  there  stood  a  fair  young  shoot, 


18  THE  JUGGLER. 

some  two  feet  in  height,  and  with  all  its  leaves 
a-rustle.  It  was  a  good  trick  and  very  cleverly 
done. 

The  little  building  once  more  was  a  babel  of 
sounds.  The  flying  squirrel  scrambled  buck  to 
the  king-post,  pausing  once  to  look  down  in  half- 
frightened  amazement.  The  window  -  panes  re 
flected  a  kaleidoscope  of  bright  bits  of  color  swiftly 
swaying,  for  the  audience  was  in  a  turmoil.  It 
was  not,  however,  the  artistic  excellence  of  the 
feat  which  swayed  the  spectators,  but  its  agricul- 
cural  significance.  This,  the  old  farmers  realized, 
was  indeed  necromancy.  Their  struggles  with  th< 
tough  and  reluctant  earth,  which  so  grudgingly 
responds  to  toil,  oft  with  such  hard -exacted  usury. 
taking  so  much  more  than  it  gives,  and  which  only 
the  poet  or  the  weed-loving  botanist  calls  generous 
and  fruitful,  had  served  to  teach  them  that  this 
kind  of  growth  must  needs  come  only  through  tin- 
wiles  of  the  deluding  devil.  Not  even  an  agricul 
tural  paper  —  had  they  known  of  such  a  sophisti 
cation  —  could  countenance  such  deceits.  A  grim, 
ashen-tinted  face  with  gray  hair  appeared  near  the 
back  of  the  building;  a  light  gray  homespun  coat 
accentuated  its  pallor.  A  long  finger  was  warn- 
ingly  shaken  at  the  juggler,  as  he  stood,  trium 
phant,  flushed,  beside  the  flourishing  shoot  he  had 
evoked  from  the  .persimmon  seed,  but  only  half 
smiling,  for  something  sinister  in  the  commingled 
voices  had  again  smitten  his  attention.  Then  he 
was  arraigned  by  Parson  Greenought  with  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  19 

solemn  adjuration  in  a  loud  tone,  "Pause,  Mr. 
Showman,  pause ! " 

The  juggler  was  already  petrified.  The  spec 
tators  obeyed  the  earnest  command,  albeit  not  in 
tended  for  them.  They  fell  once  more  into  their 
places ;  the  heads  of  many  turned  now  toward  the 
juggler,  and  again  back  to  the  preacher,  who,  in 
his  simplicity,  had  no  idea  that  he  had  transgressed 
the  canons  of  sanctification  in  visiting  a  place  of 
worldly  amusement,  since  indeed  this  was  his  first 
opportunity,  and  greatly  had  he  profited  by  it, 
until  this  last  enormity  had  aroused  his  clerical 
conscience.  "Mr.  Showman,"  he  demanded,  "do 
you-uns  call  this  religion?  " 

"Religion!"  said  Mr.  Showman,  with  a  burst 
of  unregenerate  laughter,  for  the  limits  of  his  pa 
tience  had  been  nearly  reached.  "I  call  it  fun." 

"I  call  it  the  devices  of  the  devil!"  thundered 
the  preacher.  "An'  hyar  ye  be,"  —  he  turned  on 
the  audience,  —  "ye  perfessin'  members,  a-aggin' 
this  man  on  in  his  conjurin'  an'  witchments  an' 
Satan  tricks,  till  fust  thing  ye  know  the  Enemy 
will  appear,  horns,  hoofs,  an'  tail,  a-spittin'  fire 
an'  "  —  the  juggler  had  a  passing  recollection  that 
he  too  could  spit  fire,  and  had  intended  to  make 
his  conge  amongst  pyrotechnics  of  this  sort,  and 
he  welcomed  the  thought  of  caution  that  was  not, 
like  most  of  its  kind,  ex  post  facto,  —  "a-spittin' 
fire,  an'  a-takin'  yer  souls  down  ter  hell  with  him. 
Hyar  ye  be  " 

"If  you  will  allow  me  to  interrupt  you,  sir,': 


20  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  juggler  said  persuasively,  "you  are  altogether 
mistaken,  and  I  should  like  to  make  a  full  expla 
nation  to  a  man  of  your  age  and  experience."  1 1 is 
eyes  were  grave ;  his  face  had  grown  a  trifle  pale. 
The  danger  had  come  very  near.  Rough  handling 
might  well  be  encountered  amongst  these  primitive 
wights,  inflamed  by  pulpit  oratory  and  religious 
excitement,  and  abetted  by  their  pastoral  guide. 
"In  two  minutes,"  he  went  on,  "I  can  teach  you 
to  perform  this  simple  feat  which  seems  to  you 
impossible  to  human  agency.  It  is  nothing  but 
sleight  of  hand,  a  sort  of  knack." 

For  one  moment  Parson  Greenought  hesitated, 
beguiled.  His  eye  kindled  with  curiosity  and 
eagerness;  he  made  as  though  he  would  lra\v  tin- 
bench  whereon  he  was  ensconced,  to  approach  the 
alluring  juggler.  Unfortunately,  it  was  at  the  mo 
ment  that  the  young  man's  hands,  grasping  the 
persimmon  shoot  near  the  base,  drew  it  forth  from 
the  earth  with  a  wrench,  so  firmly  was  it  planted, 
and  showed  to  the  discerning  bucolic  gaze  the  fully 
developed  root  with  the  earth  adhering  to  its  fibres ; 
thus  proving  by  the  eyesight  of  the  audience,  be 
yond  all  power  of  gainsaying,  that  it  had  sprouted 
from  the  seed  and  grown  two  feet  high  while  this 
juggler  —  this  limb  of  Satan  —  had  sung  his  little 
song  about  his  Pretty  Jane. 

A  man  rarely  has  to  contend  with  an  excess 
of  faith  in  him  and  his  deeds.  The  juggler  \\.is 
fiercely  advised  by  a  dark-browed  man  leaning 
forward  across  one  of  the  benches,  with  a  menacing 


THE  JUGGLER.  21 

duplication  of  his  figure  and  the  gesture  of  his 
clenched  fist  reflected  in  the  window,  not  to  try  to 
slip  out  of  it. 

And  Parson  Greenought,  with  a  swelling  redun 
dancy  of  voice  and  a  great  access  of  virtue,  gave 
forth  expression  of  his  desire  to  abide  by  the  will 
that  had  ordained  the  growth  of  every  herb  whose 
seed  is  in  itself  upon  the  earth;  he  would  not 
meddle  and  he  would  not  mar,  nor  would  he  learn 
with  unhallowed  and  wicked  curiosity  thus  to  per 
vert  the  laws  that  had  been  laid  down  while  the 
earth  was  yet  void  and  without  form. 

"Well,  it  never  yet  was  ordained  that  this  per 
simmon  seed  was  to  grow,"  said  the  juggler,  still 
game,  though  with  a  fluctuating  color.  He  fished 
the  stone  out  from  the  earth,  and,  dusting  it  off 
with  his  fine  white  handkerchief,  put  it  between 
his  strong  molar  teeth  and  cracked  it.  He  would 
not  again  invite  attention  to  the  reluctance  of  the 
audience  to  approach  him,  so  he  laid  it  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  front  bench  with  the  remark, 
"You  can  see  for  yourselves  the  kernel  is  with 
ered;  that  thing  has  no  capacities  for  growth." 

One  or  two  looked  cautiously  at  the  withered 
kernel  within  the  riven  pit,  and  then  glanced  sig 
nificantly  at  each  other.  It  was  shrunken,  old, 
worthless,  as  he  had  said,  but  then  his  black  art 
was  doubtless  sufficient  to  have  withered  it  with 
the  mere  wish. 

"I  don't  know  a  persimmon  sprout  from  a  dog 
wood,  or  a  sumach,  or  anything  else,"  declared  the 


22  THE  JUGGLER. 

juggler.  His  face  was  hard  and  dogged ;  he  was 
compelled  in  his  own  behoof  to  unmask  himself 
and  show  how  very  superficial  were  his  cleverest 
efforts.  He  did  it  as  ungraciously  as  he  might. 
"This  young  man"  —he  indicated  a  bold  bluff 
young  mountaineer  who  was  availing  himself  of 
the  "standing-room  only,"  to  which  a  number  of 
the  youths  were  relegated  —  "dug  up  this  sprout 
at  my  request  this  afternoon,  and  hunted  out  a 
last  year's  seed  among  the  dead  leaves  on  the 
ground." 

As  his  eyes  met  those  of  this  young  fellow  the 
twinkle  of  mischievous  delight  in  the  mountaineer's 
big  blue  orbs  gave  him  a  faint  zest  of  returning 
relish  for  the  situation,  albeit  the  primitive  denizens 
of  the  Cove  had  been  all  too  well  humbugged  even 
for  his  own  comfort. 

"This  pocket  is  torn,"  —  he  thrust  his  hand  into 
it,  —  "and  has  no  bottom.  I  therefore  slipped 
this  wand  into  this  pocket  of  these  knickerbock 
ers,"  suiting  the  action  to  the  word.  "You  see 
the  leaves  all  fold  together,  so  that  its  presence 
does  not  even  mar  the  pronounced  symmetry  of 
my  garments.  Then  I  placed  the  seed,  thus,  and 
threw  the  cloth  over  the  pail,  thus ;  with  my  left 
hand  I  slipped  out  the  persimmon  shoot,  and 
planted  it,  thus;  and  it  was  beneath  the  cloth  that 
I  left  in  a  peak  to  give  it  air  and  to  conceal  it 
while  I  had  the  honor  to  entertain  you  by  singing." 

He  supposed  that  he  would  have  satisfied  even 
the  most  timorous  and  doubtful  by  this  revelation 


THE  JUGGLER.  23 

of  his  methods  and  of  the  innocuous  nature  of  his 
craft,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  note  the  significantly 
shaken  heads,  the  disaffected  whispers,  the  collogu 
ing  of  the  young  mountaineers  occupying  "stand 
ing-room  only." 

"  Ef  he  hed  done  it  that-a-way  at  fust,  I  'd  hev 
viewed  it  sure.  I  viewed  it  plain  this  time,"  said 
one  of  these. 

"He  can't  fool  me,"  protested  a  sour-visaged 
woman  who  kept  up  a  keen  espionage  on  all  the 
world  within  the  range  of  her  pink  sunbonnet. 

"One  lie  never  mended  another,"  said  the  old 
preacher  aside  in  a  low  voice  to  a  presiding  elder. 
"Potsherds,  lies  are,  my  brother;  they  hold  no 
water." 

The  juggler  could  deceive  them  easily  enough, 
but  alack,  he  could  not  undeceive  them !  He  de 
bated  within  himself  the  possibility  which  each  of 
his  feats  possessed  of  exciting  their  ire,  as  he  hur 
riedly  rummaged  in  the  drawer  of  the  table.  He 
closed  it  abruptly. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "behold  this 
paper  of  needles ;  and  here  also  I  desire  to  intro 
duce  to  your  notice  this  small  spool  of  thread  — 
Has  any  lady  here,"  he  continued,  with  the  air  of 
breaking  off  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  any  breadths 
of  calico  or  other  fabric  which  she  might  desire  to 
have  run  up  or  galloped  up?  I  am  a  great  seam- 
ster." 

Of  course,  although  some  had  brought  their 
babies,  and  one  or  two  their  lunch  to  stop  the 


24  THE  JUGGLER. 

mouths  of  the  older  children,  many  their  snuff  or 
their  tobacco,  no  one  had  brought  work  on  this 
memorable  outing  to  the  show  in  the  Cove. 

"What  a  pity!"  he  cried.  "Well,  I  can  only 
show  you  how  I  thread  needles.  I  swallow  them 
all,  thus,"  and  down  they  went.  "Then  I  swal 
low  the  thread,"  and  forthwith  the  spool  disap 
peared  down  his  throat. 

The  audience,  educated  by  this  time  to  expect 
marvels,  sat  staring,  stony  and  still.  There  was 
a  longer  interval  than  usual  as  he  stood  with  one 
hand  on  the  table,  half  smiling,  half  expectant, 
as  if  he  too  were  doubtful  of  the  result.  Sud 
denly  he  lifted  his  hand,  and  began  to  draw  one 
end  of  the  thread  from  his  lips.  On  it  came, 
longer  and  longer;  and  here  and  there,  threaded 
and  swaying  on  the  fine  filament,  were  the  needles, 
of  assorted  sizes,  beginning  with  the  delicate  and 
small  implement,  increasing  grade  by  grade,  till 
the  descending  scale  commenced,  and  the  needles 
<l\\i lulled  as  they  appeared. 

Parson  Greenought  had  risen  when  the  thread 
was  swallowed,  but  he  lingered  till  the  last  cam 
bric  needle  was  laid  on  the  table,  and  the  presti 
digitator  had  made  his  low  bow  of  self -flattery  and 
triumph  in  conclusion.  Then  having  witnessed  it 
all,  his  forefinger  shaking  in  the  air,  he  cried  out : 
"I  leave  this  place!  I  pernounce  these  arts  ter  be 
traffickin'  with  the  devil  an'  sech.  Ef  I  be  wrong, 
the  Lord  will  jedge  me  'cordin';  ez  he  hev  gin 
me  gifts  I  see  with  my  eyes,  an'  my  eyes  air  true, 


THE  JUGGLER,  25 

an'  they  war  in  wisdom  made,  an'  war  made  ter 
see  with.  Oh,  young  man,  pause  in  time!  Sin 
hev  marked  ye!  Temptation  beguiles  ye!  I 
dunno  what  ye  hev  in  mind,  but  beware  of  it! 
Beware  of  the  sin  that  changes  its  face,  an'  shifts 
its  name,  an'  juggles  with  the  thing  ez  is  not  what 
it  seems  ter  be.  Beware!  beware!" 

As  he  stalked  out,  the  juggler  sought  to  laugh, 
but  he  winced  visibly.  The  spectators  were  on 
their  feet  now,  having  risen  with  the  excitement 
of  the  moment  of  the  old  man's  exit.  There  was, 
however,  a  manifest  disposition  to  linger;  for  hav 
ing  become  somewhat  acclimated  to  miracles,  their 
appetite  for  the  wonder-working  was  whetted. 
But  the  juggler,  frowning  heavily,  had  turned 
around,  and  was  shaking  the  cloth  out,  and  bang 
ing  about  in  the  drawer  of  the  table,  as  if  making 
his  preparations  for  departure.  The  people  be 
gan  to  move  slowly  to  the  door.  It  was  not  his 
intention  to  dismiss  the  audience  thus  summarily 
and  unceremoniously,  and  as  the  situation  struck 
his  attention  he  advanced  toward  the  front  of  the 
platform. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began;  but  his 
voice  was  lost  in  the  clatter  of  heavy  boots  on  the 
floor,  the  scraping  of  benches  moved  from  their 
proper  places  to  liberate  groups  in  order  to  precede 
their  turn  in  the  procession,  the  sudden  sleepy  pro 
test  of  a  half -awakened  infant,  rising  in  a  sharp 
crescendo  and  climaxing  in  a  hearty  bawl  of  un 
bridled  rage. 


26  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen!"  he  cried  vainly  to 
the  dusty  atmosphere,  and  the  haggard,  disheveled 
aspect  of  the  half -deserted  room.  "Oh,  go  along, 
then,"  he  added,  dropping  his  voice,  "and  the 
devil  take  you! " 

His  mountain  acquaintance  had  come  to  the  side 
of  the  platform,  and  stood  waiting,  one  hand  on  the 
table,  while  he  idly  eyed  the  juggler,  who  hud 
returned  to  rummaging  the  drawer.  He  was  a 
tall  strong  young  fellow,  with  straight  black  hair 
that  grew  on  his  forehead  in  the  manner  denomi 
nated  a  "cowlick,"  and  large  contemplative  !>lue 
eyes;  his  face  showed  some  humor,  for  the  lines 
broke  readily  into  laughter.  His  long  boots  were 
drawn  high  over  his  brown  jeans  trousers,  and  his 
blue-checked  homespun  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck. 
and  showed  his  strong  throat  that  held  his  head 
very  sturdily  and  straight. 

He  was  compassionate  at  the  moment.  "  Plumb 
beat  out,  ain't  ye?"  he  said  sympathetically. 

"I'm  half  dead!"  cried  the  juggler  furiously, 
throwing  off  his  blazer,  and  wiping  his  hot  face 
with  his  handkerchief. 

The  open  door  admitted  the  currents  of  the  chill 
night  air  and  the  pungent  odors  of  the  dense  dark 
woods  without.  Calls  to  the  oxen  in  the  process 
of  gearing  up  sounded  now  and  again  droningly. 
Occasionally  quick  hoofbeats  told  of  a  horseman's 
departure  at  full  gallop.  The  talk  of  waiting 
groups  outside  now  came  mingled  to  the  ear,  then 
censed  and  rose  anew.  More  than  oiiee  a  l"iul 


THE  JUGGLER.  27 

yawn  told  of  the  physical  stress  of  the  late  hour 
and  the  unwonted  excitement.  The  young  moun 
taineer  was  going  the  rounds  of  the  room  extin 
guishing  the  tallow  dips  laboriously;  taking  each 
down,  blowing  gustily  at  it,  and  replacing  it  in 
the  sconce.  The  juggler,  as  he  passed,  with  his 
blazer  over  his  arm,  quenched  the  lights  far  more 
expeditiously,  but  mechanically,  as  it  seemed,  by 
fanning  the  timorous  flames  out  seriatim  with  his 
hat  in  quick,  decisive  gestures.  When  he  stood 
in  the  door,  the  room  dark  behind  him,  there  was 
no  life,  no  motion,  in  the  umbrageous  obscurity 
at  hand;  naught  gave  token  of  the  audience  so 
lately  assembled  save  the  creak  of  an  unoiled  axle 
far  away,  and  once  the  raucous  cry  of  a  man  to 
his  team.  Then  all  was  still.  In  the  hush,  a 
vague  drowsy  note  came  suddenly  from  a  bird  high 
amongst  the  budding  leaves  of  a  tulip-tree  hard 
by.  An  interval,  and  a  like  dreamy  response 
sounded  from  far  down  the  slope  where  pendulous 
boughs  overhung  the  river.  Some  sweet  chord  of 
sympathy  had  brought  the  thought  of  the  one  to 
the  other  in  the  deep  dark  night,  —  these  beings  so 
insignificant  in  the  plan  of  creation,  —  and  one 
must  needs  rouse  itself  with  that  veiled  reedy 
query,  and  the  other,  downily  dreaming,  must  pipe 
out  a  reassuring  "All 's  well." 

The  suggestiveness  of  this  lyric  of  two  tones 
was  not  lost  on  the  juggler.  He  was  pierced  by 
the  poignancy  of  exile.  He  could  hardly  realize 
that  he  was  of  the  same  species  as  the  beings  who 


28  THE  JUGGLER. 

had  formed  the  "cultivated  and  intellectual  audi 
ence"  he  had  had  the  honor  to  entertain.  Not 
one  process  of  his  mind  could  be  divined  by  them ; 
not  one  throb  of  their  superstitious  terrors  could 
he  share. 

"The  cursed  fatality,"  he  growled  between  his 
teeth,  "that  brought  me  to  this  God-forsaken 
country ! " 

"Waal,"  drawled  the  young  mountaineer,  whom 
he  had  forgotten  for  the  moment,  "they  won't  be 
so  tur'ble  easy  skeered  nex'  time." 

"They  won't  have  another  chance  in  a  hurry," 
retorted  the  juggler  angrily,  as  they  walked  away 
together  in  single  file. 

The  night  was  very  dark,  although  the  great 
whorls  of  constellations  were  splendidly  abloom  in 
the  clear  sky.  If  a  raylet  fell  to  earth  in  the 
forest,  it  was  not  appreciable  in  the  sombre  depths, 
and  the  juggler,  with  all  his  craft,  might  hardly 
have  made  shift  to  follow  his  companion  but  for 
the  spark  and  the  light  luminous  smoke  of  the 
mountaineer's  pipe.  Suddenly,  as  they  turned  ;i 
sharp  edge  of  a  series  of  great  rocks,  that  like 
flying  buttresses  projected  out  from  the  steep  per 
pendicular  wall  of  a  crag  above  them,  all  at  once 
growing  visible,  a  white  flare  shone  before  their 
eyes,  illumining  all  the  surrounding  woods.  There 
in  an  open  space  near  the  edge  of  a  bluff  was 
a  great  fire  of  logs  burning  like  a  funeral  pyiv. 
The  juggler  had  paused  as  if  spellbound.  From 
the  opposite  side  of  the  glowing  mass  a  face,  dis- 


THE  JUGGLER.  29 

torted,  tremulous,  impossibly  hideous,  elongated 
almost  out  of  the  proportion  of  humanity,  peered 
at  him. 

"For  God's  sake,  what's  that?"  he  cried  out, 
clutching  at  his  guide's  arm. 

The  slow  mountaineer,  surprised  out  of  his  com 
posure,  paused,  and  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth 
to  stare  uncomprehendingly  at  his  companion. 

"Jes'  burnin'  lime,"  he  said. 

Their  shadows,  suddenly  evolved,  stretched  over 
the  ground  in  the  white  flare.  The  Cove,  not  far 
beneath,  for  this  was  on  a  low  spur  of  the  great 
range,  now  flickered  into  full  view,  now  receded 
into  the  darkness.  Above  the  vague  mountain 
the  stars  seemed  all  gone,  and  the  sky  was  elusive 
and  cloaked.  For  all  the  art  of  the  juggler,  he 
could  show  naught  of  magic  more  unnatural,  more 
ghastly,  than  the  face  of  the  lime-burner  as  it  ap 
peared  through  the  medium  of  the  heated  air  aris 
ing  from  the  primitive  kiln,  —  protean,  distorted 
by  every  current  of  the  night's  breath,  —  although 
it  was  of  much  significance  to  him,  and  later  he 
came  to  know  it  well  to  his  cost.  As  the  man 
caught  the  sound  of  their  approach,  he  walked 
around  to  the  side  of  the  kiln,  and  his  face  and 
figure,  no  longer  seen  through  the  unequally  re 
fracting  medium  of  the  heated  air,  dwindled  to 
normal  proportions.  It  was  not  a  prepossessing 
face  in  its  best  estate,  —  long,  thin-lipped,  grim, 
with  small  eyes  set  close  together,  and  surmounted 
by  a  wide  wool  hat,  which,  being  large  for  his 


30  THE  JUGGLER. 

head,  was  so  crushed  together  that  its  crown  rose 
up  in  a  peak.  His  clothes  were  plentifully  dusted 
with  powdery  flakes,  and  the  scalding  breath  of 
the  unslaked  lime  was  perceptible  to  the  throats 
of  the  newcomers. 

"Ye  'pear  ter  be  powerful  late,"  the  young 
mountaineer  hazarded. 

"Weather  signs  air  p'intin'  fur  rain,"  replied 
the  lime-burner.  "I  ain't  wantin'  all  this  lime 
ter  git  slacked  by  accident."  He  glanced  down 
with  a  workman's  satisfaction  at  the  primitive 
process.  Between  the  logs  of  the  great  pile  layers 
of  the  broken  limestone  were  interposed,  and  were 
gradually  calcined  as  the  fire  blazed.  Although 
some  of  it  was  imperfectly  consumed,  and  here 
and  there  lay  in  half -crude  lumps,  the  quantity 
well  burned  was  sufficient  to  warrant  the  laborer's 
anxiety  to  get  it  under  shelter  before  it  should 
sustain  the  deteriorating  effects  of  moisture. 

"Gideon  Beck  war  a-promisin'  ter  kem  back 
straight  arter  supper,','  said  Peter  Knowles,  "an' 
holp  me  git  it  inter  the  rock  house  thar."  He  in 
dicated  a  grotto  in  the  face  of  the  cliff,  where,  by 
the  light  of  the  fire,  one  might  perceive  that  lime 
had  already  been  stored.  The  beetling  rocks 
above  it  afforded  adequate  protection  from  falling 
weather,  and  the  small  quantity  of  the  commodity 
was  evidently  disproportionate  to  the  ample  spaces 
for  its  accommodation  within.  "I  felt  plumb 
beset  an'  oneasy  'bout  Gid,"  added  Knowles. 
"He  inought  hev  hed  a  fit,  or  suthin'  may  have 


THE  JUGGLER.  31 

happened  down  ter  his  house,  ter  some  o'  the 
chil'n  o'  suthin'.  He  merried  my  sister  Judy,  ye 
know.  They  don't  take  haffen  keer  o'  them 
chil'n;  some  o'  them  mought  hev  got  sot  afire  o' 
suthin',  or" 

"They  mought,  but  they  ain't,"  exclaimed  Jack 
Ormsby,  the  young  mountaineer,  with  a  laugh. 
"Gid  's  been  down  yander  ter  the  show,  an'  all  the 
chil'n,  an'  yer  sister  Judy  too." 

"What  show?  "  demanded  Knowles  shortly,  his 
grim  face  half  angry,  half  amazed. 

"The  show  in  the  schoolhouse  in  the  Cove. 
This  hyar  stranger-man,  he  gin  a  show,"  Ormsby 
explained.  "I  viewed  'em  all  thar,  all  the  fam- 
bly." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause,  and  one  might 
hear  the  wind  astir  in  the  darkness  of  the  woods 
below,  and  feel  the  dank  breath  of  the  clouds  that 
invisibly  were  gathering  on  the  brink  of  the  range 
above.  One  of  the  sudden  mountain  rains  was  at 
hand. 

"An'  I  wish  I  hed  every  one  of  'em  hyar 
now!"  exclaimed  Peter  Knowles  in  fury.  "I'd 
kiver  'em  all  up  in  that  thar  quicklime,  —  that 's 
what  I  'd  do!  An'  thar  would  n't  be  hide,  hawns, 
or  taller  lef  of  none  of  'em  in  the  mornin'. 
Leave  me  hyar,  —  leave  me  hyar  with  all  this 
medjure  o'  lime,  an'  I  never  see  none  so  stubborn 
in  burnin',  the  timber  bein'  so  durned  green  an' 
sappy,  the  dad-burned  critter  promisin'  an'  pro- 
Da  isin'  ter  kem  back  arter  he  got  his  supper,  — an' 


32  THE  JUGGLER. 

go  ter  a  show,  a  damned   show!      What   sort'n 
show  war  it?" 

The  juggler  burst  out  laughing.    "  Come  alu-;i<  1 1 ' 
he  cried  to  Ormsby.     "Lend  a  hand  here! ' 

He  had  a  strong  sense  of  commercial  values. 
To  let  a  marketable  commodity  lie  out  and  be 
ruined  by  the  rain  was  repellent  to  all  his  convic 
tions  of  economics.  It  might  have  been  as  much 
for  the  sake  of  the  lime  itself  as  from  a  sort  of 
half -pity  for  the  deserted  lime -burner  —  for  Peter 
Knowles  had  not  the  cast  of  countenance  or  of 
soul  that  preempted  a  fellow  feeling  —  that  he 
caught  up  a  great  shovel  that  lay  at  hand. 

"I'll  undertake  to  learn  the  ropes  in  a  trice," 
he  declared,  throwing  his  coat  on  the  ground. 

Knowles  only  stared  at  him  in  surly  amazement, 
but  Ormsby,  who  had  often  seen  the  process,  tlnvw 
aside  the  half -burnt-out  logs  and  followed  the  lead 
of  the  juggler,  who,  tense,  light,  active,  the  white 
flare,  terrible  so  close  at  hand,  on  his  face  and 
figure,  began  to  shovel  the  lumps  into  the  barrow 
or  cart  made  to  receive  the  lime.  Then,  a^  tin- 
wind  swept  by  with  a  warning  note,  Knowles  too 
fell  to  work,  and  added  the  capacities  of  his  expe 
rience  to  the  sheer  uninstructed  force  of  the  will 
ing  volunteers.  They  made  it  short  work.  The 
two  neophytes  found  it  a  scorching  experiment, 
and  more  than  once  they  fell  back,  flinching  from 
the  inherent  heat  of  the  flying  powder  as  they 
shoveled  it  into  the  mouth  of  the  grotto. 

"I  had  no  idea,"  the  juggler  said,  as  he  stood 


THE   JUGGLER.  33 

by  the  embers  when  it  was  all  over,  looking  from 
one  smarting  hand  to  the  other,  "that  quicklime 
is  so  very  powerful,  so  caustic  an  agent.  I  can 
believe  you  when  you  say  that  if  you  should  put  a 
body  in  that  bed  there  it  would  be  consumed  by 
morning,  —  bones  and  all? "  He  became  suddenly 
interrogative. 

"Nare  toe  nor  toe-nail  lef,"  returned  Peter 
Knowles  succinctly,  as  if  he  had  often  performed 
this  feat  as  a  scientific  experiment. 

The  juggler  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  the 
man  opposite.  They  dilated  and  lingered  fasci 
nated  with  a  sort  of  horror;  for  that  strange  ana 
morphosis  had  once  more  possessed  it.  All  at 
variance  it  was  with  its  natural  contours,  as  the 
heated  air  streamed  up  from  the  bed  of  half -cal 
cined  stone,  —  trembling  through  this  shimmering 
medium,  yet  preserving  the  semblance  of  human 
ity,  like  the  face  of  some  mythical  being,  demon 
or  ghoul.  A  dawning  significance  was  on  his  own 
face,  of  which  he  was  unconscious,  but  which  the 
other  noted.  How  might  he  utilize  this  property 
of  air  and  heat  and  quicklime  in  some  of  those 
wonders  of  jugglery  at  which  he  was  so  expert? 
More  than  once,  as  he  walked  away,  he  turned  back 
to  gaze  anew  at  the  phenomenon,  his  trim  figure 
lightly  poised,  his  hand  in  his  belt,  his  blazer 
thrown  over  his  arm,  that  gleam  of  discovery  on 
his  face. 

As  the  encompassing  rocks  and  foliage  at  last 
hid  him  from  view,  Peter  Knowles  looked  down 
into  the  fire. 


34  THE  JUGGLER. 

"That  air  a  true  word.  The  quicklime  would 
eat  every  bone,"  he  said  slowly.  "But  what  nil- 
Ac  aimin'  ter  know  fur'  And  once  more  he 
looked  curiously  at  the  s})ot  where  the  juggler  hud 
vanished,  remembering  the  guise  of  discovery  and 
elation  his  face  had  worn. 


n. 

LATE  that  night  old  Tubal  Sims  lingered  on  his 
hearthstone,  brooding  over  the  embers  of  the  fail 
ing  fire.  As  he  reviewed  the  incidents  of  the  even 
ing,  he  chuckled  with  a  sort  of  half -suppressed  glee. 
His  capacities  for  enjoyment  were  not  blunted 
by  the  event  itself;  the  very  reminiscence  afforded 
him  a  keen  and  acute  pleasure.  In  all  his  sixty 
years  he  had  never  known  such  a  vigil  as  this. 
He  could  not  sleep  for  the  crowding  images  with 
which  his  brain  teemed.  Each  detail  as  it  was 
enacted  returned  to  him  now  with  a  freshened 
delight.  The  objections  urged  by  the  audience  on 
the  score  of  necromancy  gave  him  peculiar  joy; 
for  he  and  his  wife  were  of  a  progressive  tendency 
of  mind,  and  had  that  sly  sense  of  mental  supe 
riority  which  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  secrets  to 
share  with  one's  own  consciousness.  As  he  sat  on 
a  broken-backed  chair,  his  shoulders  bent  forward 
and  his  hands  hanging  loosely  over  his  knees,  the 
hard  palms  rubbing  themselves  together  from  time 
to  time,  for  the  air  was  growing  chilly,  the  light 
of  the  embers  on  his  shock  of  grizzled  hair,  and 
wrinkled  face  with  its  long  blunt  nose  and  project 
ing  chin,  and  small  deep-set  eyes  twinkling  under 
their  overhanging  brows,  he  now  and  again  lifted 


36  THE  JUGGLER. 

his  head  to  note  any  sudden  stir  about  the  house. 
So  foreign  to  his  habit  was  this  long-lingering 
wakefulness  that  it  told  on  his  nerves  in  an  :ul<U'd 
acuteness  of  all  his  senses.  He  marked  the  gnaw 
ing  of  a  mouse  in  the  roof-room,  the  sound  of  the 
rUin^  wind  far  away,  and  the  first  stir  of  the  elm- 
tree  above  the  claplx)ards.  A  cock  crew  from  his 
roost  hard  by,  and  then  with  a  yawn  Tubal  Sims 
pulled  off  one  of  his  shoes  and  sat  with  it  in  his 
hand,  looking  at  it  absently,  and  laughing  at  the 
thought  of  old  Parson  Greenought  and  his  inter 
ference  to  discourage  Satan.  "I  wisht  I  could 
hev  knowed  what  the  boy  would  hev  done  nex', 
if  so  be  he  hed  been  lef  alone."  He  made  up  his 
mind  that  he  would  ask  the  juggler  the  next  day, 
and  if  possible  induce  a  private  repetition  of  some 
of  the  wonders  for  the  appreciation  of  which,  evi 
dently,  the  public  sentiment  of  Etowah  Cove  was 
not  yet  ripe.  For  the  juggler  was  his  guest,  hav 
ing  reached  his  house  a  few  evenings  previous 
in  the  midst  of  a  storm;  and  asking  for  shelter 
for  the  night,  the  wayfarer  had  found  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  was  profiting  by  it.  Sims  could 
hear  even  now  the  bed-cords  creak  as  he  tossed 
in  uneasy  slumber  up  in  the  roof -room,  so  still  the 
house  had  grown. 

So  still  that  when  a  deep  groan  and  then  an 
agonized  gasping  sigh  came  from  the  sleeper,  the 
sounds  were  so  incongruous  with  the  trend  of  old 
Tubal  Sirns's  happy  reflections  that  he  experieneed 
a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  that  was  like  a 


THE  JUGGLER.  37 

shock.  The  rain  began  to  fall  on  the  roof;  it 
seemed  to  come  in  fine  lines  on  a  fluctuating  gust, 
for  it  was  as  if  borne  away  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  and  the  eaves  vaguely  dripped. 

"But  oh,"  cried  the  sleeper,  "the  one  who  lives! 
what  can  I  do !  —  for  whose  life !  his  life !  his 
life!  "  and  spoke  no  more. 

Yet  the  cabalistic  words  seemed  to  ring  through 
the  house  in  trumpet  tones;  they  sounded  again 
and  again  in  every  blast  of  the  wind.  The  place 
had  grown  cold ;  the  fire  was  dead  on  the  hearth ; 
it  was  the  unfamiliar  midnight.  Old  Tubal  Sims 
sat  as  motionless  as  if  petrified.  He  had  never 
heard  of  the  process  of  mind-reading,  but  he  would 
fain  decipher  these  sleeping  thoughts  of  his  guest. 
He  found  himself  involved  in  tortuous  and  futile 
speculations.  Who  was  "the  one  who  lives," 
whose  life  this  stranger  grudged?  And  following 
the  antithesis,  —  not  that  Tubal  Sims  would  have 
thus  phrased  it,  —  was  there  then  one  who  died  ? 
And  why  should  the  recollection  return  in  the  deep 
slumbers  of  the  night  and  speak  out  in  this  weird 
dreaming  voice. 

It  occurred  to  Tubal  Sims,  for  the  first  time, 
that  there  was  something  inexplicable  about  this 
man.  Apparently,  he  had  no  mission  here  save 
for  the  exhibition  of  jugglery,  —  how  suddenly  it 
had  lost  its  zest !  He  knew  naught  of  the  people 
or  the  surrounding  region ;  he  had  no  baggage,  no 
sort  of  preparation  for  continued  existence,  not 
even  a  change  of  clothes.  Mrs.  Sims,  being  sub- 


38  THE  JUGGLER. 

sidized  to  supply  this  deficiency,  had  already  con 
structed  for  him  one  blue  homespun  shirt,  which 
evidently  astounded  him  when  he  lir>t  beheld  it, 
so  different  it  was  from  the  one  he  wore,  but 
which  he  accepted  meekly  enough.  Tubal  Sims 
told  himself  that  he  had  been  precipitate  in  hous 
ing  this  stranger  beyond  a  shelter  during  the 
storm. 

To  this  it  had  come,  —  the  happy  dreaming  over 
the  fire,  renewing  a  pleasure  so  rare,  —  to  these 
vague  fears  and  self-reproaches  and  suspicions  and 
anxious  speculations.  He  stumbled  to  bed  at  last 
in  the  dark,  yet  still  the  words  and  the  tone 
haunted  him.  It  was  long  ere  he  slept,  and  more 
than  once  he  was  roused  from  sluml>er  to  the  dark 
silence  by  the  fancy  that  he  heard  anew  the  poign 
ant  iteration. 

If  the  juggler  had  dreams,  they  may  have 
weighed  heavily  upon  him  the  next  day,  for  he 
came  down  the  rickety  stairs,  pale  and  silent,  \\ith 
heavy -lidded  eyes  and  dark  blue  circles  beneath 
them.  Under  Mrs.  Sims's  kindly  ministrations 
he  sought  in  vain  to  eat  the  heavy  thick  biscuit, 
the  underdone  fried  mush,  and  the  fat  greasy 
bacon;  for  Mrs.  Sims  was  not  one  of  those  culi 
nary  geniuses  sometimes  encountered  at  humble 
boards;  in  good  sooth,  but  for  her  cows  and  chick 
ens,  in  these  early  days  of  his  stay  in  Etowah 
Cove,  he  would  have  fared  ill  indeed. 

"Ye  make  a  better  out  at  swallerhf  needles  'n 
ye  do  swallerin'  fried  'taters,"  she  declared,  with 


THE  JUGGLER.  39 

a  reproachful  glance,  supplemented  by  her  good- 
humored  chuckle. 

He  could  make  no  sort  of  compact  with  the  bev 
erage  she  called  coffee,  and  after  the  merest  feint 
of  breakfast  he  took  his  host's  angling-tackle  and 
wended  his  way  down  to  the  river,  observing  that 
the  fish  would  bite  well  to-day,  since  it  was  so 
cloudy.  Cloudy  it  was,  undoubtedly,  sombre  and 
drear.  Now  and  then  drizzling  showers  fell,  and 
when  they  ceased  the  mists  that  rose  in  the  ravines 
and  skulked  in  every  depression  were  hardly  less 
dank  and  chill.  The  river,  in  its  deep  channel 
between  jagged  rocky  gray  bluffs  and  shelving  red 
clay  banks  of  the  most  brilliant  terra-cotta  tones, 
was  of  the  color  of  copper  instead  of  the  clear 
steel-gray  or  the  silvered  blue  it  was  wont  to  show, 
so  much  of  the  mud  of  its  borders  did  it  hold  now 
in  solution,  brought  down  by  the  rains  of  the  night. 
Here  and  there  slender  willows  hung  over  it  in 
lissome  and  graceful  wont,  with  such  vivid  vernal 
suggestions  in  the  tender  budding  foliage  as  to 
cause  the  faint  green  tint  to  shine  with  definite  lus 
tre,  like  the  high  lights  in  some  artificial  landscape 
of  a  canvas,  amidst  the  dark  dripping  bronze-green 
pines  of  the  Cove,  which  from  this  point  the  young 
man  could  see  stretching  away  in  sad-hued  verdure 
some  three  or  four  miles  to  the.opposite  mountain's 
base,  — the  breadth  of  the  restricted  little  basin. 
This  was  the  only  large  outlook  at  his  command ; 
for  behind  the  house  he  had  quitted,  the  slopes  of 
the  wooded  mountain  rose  abruptly,  steep,  rugged, 


40  ////    .in. LI. UK. 

soon  lost  among  the  clouds.  He  gaxcd  absently 
at  the  little  cabin,  the  usual  structure  of  two  rooms 
with  an  open  passage,  as  he  lay  on  tin-  shelving 
rock  high  above  the  river,  the  fishing-pole  held  by 
a  heavy  boulder  fixed  on  it  to  secure  it  in  its  place, 
his  hands  clasped  under  his  head,  his  hat  tilted 
somewhat  over  his  eyes;  for  despite  the  paucity  of 
light  in  the  atmosphere  the  mists  had  a  certain 
white  glaring  quality. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  the  subject  of  a  degree  of 
disaffected  scrutiny  from  indoors. 

"Jane  Ann,"  said  Tubal  Sims,  suddenly  inter 
rupting  the  loud  throat}'  wheeze  by  which  his  help 
meet  beguiled  the  tedium  of  washing  the  di-h. •-. 
and  which  she  construed  as  that  act  of  devotion 
commonly  known  as  singing  a  hymn,  "that  thar 
man  ain't  got  no  bait  on  his  hook." 

Jane  Ann  set  the  plate  in  her  hand  down  on  tin- 
table,  and  turned  her  broad  creased  face  toward 
her  husband  as  he  sat  smoking  in  the  passage,  just 
outside  the  door. 

"Then  he  ain't  goin'  ter  ketch  no  feesh,"  she 
replied  logically,  and  lifting  both  the  plate  and 
her  droning  wheeze  she  resumed  her  occupation. 

Tubal  Sims,  like  other  men.  fluctuated  in  his 
estimation  of  his  wife's  abilities  according  as  they 
seemed  to  him  convertible  to  his  aid.  Ordina 
rily,  he  was  wont  to  commend  Jane  Ann  Sims's 
logical  common  sense  as  "powerful  smartness," 
and  had  been  known  to  lean  on  her  judgment 
even  in  the  matter  of  "craps,"  in  which,  if  any- 


THE   JUGGLER.  41 

where,  man  is  safe  from  the  interference  and  even 
the  ambition  of  woman.  He  rejoiced  in  her  free 
dom  from  the  various  notions  which  appertain  to 
her  sex,  and  felt  a  certain  pride  that  she  too  had 
withstood  the  panic  which  had  so  preyed  upon  the 
pleasures  of  the  "show."  But  now,  when  her 
lack  of  the  subtler  receptivities  balked  him  of  a 
possible  approach  to  the  key  of  the  mystery  which 
he  sought  to  solve,  he  was  irritated  because  of  her 
density  of  perception,  and  disposed  to  underrate 
her  capacities  to  deduce  aught  from  that  cabalistic 
phrase  which  he  alone  had  heard  uttered  in  the 
deep  midnight  and  from  such  slender  premises 
to  frame  a  just  conclusion.  And  furthermore, 
with  the  rebuff  he  realized  anew  that  Jane  Ann 
Sims  was  a  woman,  incompetent  of  reason  save  in 
its  most  superficial  processes,  or  she  would  have  per 
ceived  that  the  significance  of  the  unbaited  hook  lay 
in  the  strange  mental  perturbation  which  could  in 
volve  the  neglect  of  so  essential  a  particular,  not 
in  the  obvious  fruitlessness  of  the  labor.  Jane 
Ann  Sims  was  a  woman.  Let  her  wash  the  dishes. 

"Naw,"  he  said  aloud,  half  scornfully,  "he'll 
ketch  no  feesh." 

Mrs.  Sims  ceased  to  wheeze,  and  her  fat  face 
relapsed  from  the  pious  distortions  of  her  psalmody 
into  its  normal  creases  and  dimples.  "I  be  plumb 
fit  ter  fly  inter  the  face  o'  Providence,"  she  said, 
as  she  moved  heavily  about  the  table  and  slapped 
down  a  blue  platter  but  half  dried. 

"What  fur?"  demanded  the  lord  of  the  house, 


42  77/A    JUGGLER. 

whose  sense  of  humor  was  too  blunted  by  his 
speculations,  and  a  haunting  anxiety,  and  a  trou 
blous  eagerness  to  discuss  the  question  of  his  di>- 
covery,  to  perceive  aught  of  tin-  ludicrous  in  tin- 
lightsome  metaphor  with  which  his  weighty  spouse 
had  characterized  her  disaffection  with  the  order 
ing  of  events. 

"Kase  Euphemy  ain't  hyar,  o'  course.  Ye 
'pear  ter  be  sorter  dunder-headed  this  inornin' !  " 
Thus  the  weaker  vessel ! 

She  wheezed  one  more  line  of  her  matutinal 
hymn  in  a  dolorous  cadence  and  with  breathy  in- 
tiT-tiro  In-turrll  tllr  -|  M  i|  I.  li  r>  :  tllrli  -lldd«'id\  and 

finally  discarding  the  exercise,  she  began  to  speak 
with  animation:  "I  hev  always  claimed  an'  sot 
out  ter  be  suthin'  of  a  prophet,  — ye  yerse'f  know 
ez  I  be  more  weatherwise  'n  common.  I  be  toler'- 
ble  skilled  in  cow  diseases,  too;  an'  I  kin  say 
'forehand  who  be  goin'  ter  git  'lected  ter  office,  — 
giuerally,  though,  by  knowin'  who  hev  got  money 
an'  holds  his  hand  slack;  an'  I  kin  tell  what  color 
hair  a  baby  be  goin'  ter  hev  whenst  he  ain't  got 
so  much  ez  a  furze  on  the  top  o'  his  bald  pate:  an' 
whenst  ye  'low  ye  air  strict  sober  of  a  Christmas 
time  or  sech,  I  kin  tell  ter  a  —  a  quart  how  much 
applejack  hev  gone  down  yer  gullet;  an' ' 

He  sacrificed  his  curiosity  as  to  her  other  accom- 
]>lishmeuts  as  a  seer,  and  hastily  inquired,  "What 
on  the  yearth  hev  sot  ye  off  ter  braggin'  this-a- 
way,  Jane  Ann  ?  I  never  hearn  the  beat !  " 

"I  ain't  braggin',"  expounded  Mrs.  Sims.      "I 


THE  JUGGLER.  43 

be  just  meditatin'  on  how  forehanded  I  be  in 
viewin'  facts  ingineral;  an'  yit,"  —  her  voice  rose 
in  pathetic  exasperation,  —  "the  very  day  o'  the 
eveniii'  this  hyar  stranger-man  got  hyar  I  let 
Euphemy  go  over  ter  Piomingo  Cove  ter  visit  her 
granny's  folks;  an'  the  chile  did  n't  want  ter  go 
much,  —  war  afeard  o'  rain,  bein'  dressed  out 
powerful  starched ;  an'  I,  so  forehanded  in  sight, 
told  her  't  warn't  goin'  ter  rain  till  evenin'." 

"Waal,  no  more  did  it.  Phemie  war  under 
shelter  six  hours  'fore  it  rained." 

"  Lawd-a-massy ! "  cried  Mrs.  Sims,  at  the  end 
of  her  patience.  "  What  war  the  use  o'  creatin' 
man  with  sech  a  slow  onderstandin'  ?  I  reckon 
the  reason  woman  war  made  arterward  war  ter  gin 
the  critter  somebody  ter  explain  things  ter  him! 
Can't  you-uns  sense  "  — she  directly  addressed  her 
husband — "ez  what  I  be  a-tryin'  ter  compass  is 
why  —  why  —  I  could  tell  ter  a  minit  when  the 
storm  war  a-comin',  an'  yit  couldn't  tell  the  jug 
gler  war  comin'  with  it?" 

Tubal  Sims,  staring  up  from  under  his  shaggy 
eyebrows,  his  arms  folded  on  his  knees,  his  cob 
pipe  cocked  between  his  teeth,  could  only  ejacu 
late,  "I  dunno." 

"Naw,  you-uns  dunno,"  flouted  Mrs.  Sims, 
"an'  you-uns  dunno  a  heap  besides  that." 

He  received  this  fling  in  humble  silence.  Then, 
after  the  manner  of  the  henpecked,  unable  to  keep 
out  of  trouble,  albeit  before  his  eyes,  and  flinching 
at  the  very  moment  from  discipline,  he  must  needs 


44  TV/ A1  jn;i;i.ER. 

inquire,  "Why,  Jane  Ann,  what  you-uns  want 
the  pore  child  hyar  fur?  Ye  git  on  toler'ble  well 
with  the  cookin'  'thout  her  help.  Let  Plu-m it- 
git  her  visit  out  ter  her  granny  in  Piomingo 
Cove,"  he  concluded  expostulatingly. 

There  was  not  a  dimple  in  Mrs.  Sims's  face. 
It  was  all  solid,  set,  stern,  fat.  She  sunk  down 
into  a  chair  and  folded  her  arms  as  she  gazed  ;it 
him.  "Tubal  Cain  Sims,"  she  admonish.-.!  him 
solemnly,  "ef  I  hed  no  mo'  head-stuffin'  'n  \«>u- 
uns,  I 'd  git  folks  ter  chain  me  up  like  that  thai- 
tame  b'ar  at  Sayre's  Mill,  so  ez  't  would  lit-  kuowed 
I  warn't  'sponsible.  Ye  hev  yer  motions  like  him, 
an'  ye  kin  scratch  yer  head  like  him.  too:  hut  he 
can't  talk  sense,  an'  y«-  can't  nuther."  She  paused 
for  a  moment;  then  she  condescended  to  explain: 
"I  want  that  child  Kuphemy  hyar  kas<-  >\\\-  oughter 
he<l  a  chance  ter  view  that  show  las'  night." 

1 1 U  countenance  changed.  He  too  valued  tin- 
"show"  as  a  special  privilege.  He  was  woe  for 
Euphemia's  sake,  away  down  yonder  in  the  back 
woods  of  Piomingo  Cove. 

"  Mebbe  he  mought  gin  another  show  over  yan- 
der  ter  the  Settlemint,"  he  ha/ard« d.  "Tin-  folks 
over  thar  will  be  plumb  sharp-sot  fur  sech  doin's 
whenst  they  hear  'bout'n  it." 

The  sophistications  of  polite  society  are  not  re 
cognized  by  the  medical  faculty  as  amongst  tin- 
epidemics  which  spread  among  mankind,  but  no 
contagious  principle  has  so  dispersive  a  quality  in 
every  feature  of  the  malady.  Given  one  show  in 


THE  JUGGLER.  45 

Etowah  Cove,  and  Tubal  Cain  Sims  developed  the 
acumen  of  a  keen  impresario.  He  saw  the  oppor 
tunity,  counted  the  chances,  evolved  as  an  original 
idea  —  for  the  existence  of  such  a  scheme  had 
never  reached  his  ears  —  a  successful  starring  tour 
around  the  coves  and  mountain  settlements  of  the 
Great  Smoky  range. 

The  melancholy  expressed  in  the  slow  shaking 
of  Mrs.  Sims's  head  aroused  him  from  this  project. 

"Naw,"  she  said;  "the  fool  way  that  the  folks 
tuk  on  'bout  Satan  —  they  'd  better  hev  the  high- 
strikes  'count  o'  thar  sins  —  an'  thar  theatenings 
an'  sech  will  purvent  him.  He  won't  show  agin. 
An'  I  be  plumb  afeard,"  she  cried  out  in  renewed 
vexation,  "the  man  will  get  away  from  hyar  'thout 
vie  win'  Euphemy.  I  '11  be  bound  he  hev  never 
seen  the  like  of  her !  "  with  a  joyous  note  of  mater 
nal  pride. 

The  pipe  turned  around  in  Tubal  Sims's  mouth, 
and  the  charge  of  fire  and  ashes  and  tobacco  fell 
unheeded  on  the  floor.  Like  a  voice  in  his  ears 
the  echo  of  that  strange  cry  of  the  sleeper  came  to 
him  out  of  the  deep  darkness  of  the  stormy  mid 
night,  with  the  problem  of  its  occult  significance, 
with  the  terror  of  its  possible  meaning,  and  every 
other  consideration  slipped  from  his  consciousness. 
The  perception  of  the  mental  trouble  expressed  in 
the  man's  face,  its  confirmation  even  in  the  trifle 
of  the  unbaited  hook,  returned  to  Sims,  with  the 
determination  that  he  must  know  more  of  him  or 
get  him  out  of  the  Cove  before  Euphemia's  return. 


46  THE  JUGGLER. 

"The  man's  dad-burned  good-lookin',"  he  said  to 
himself,  perceiving  the  fact  for  the  first  time,  since 
it  had  a  personal  application.  "An'  Phemie  be 
powerful  book-1'arned,  an'  be  always  scornin'  the 
generality  o'  the  young  cusses  round  about,  kase 
she  knows  more  'n  they  do.  Mebbe  he  knows 
more  'n  she  do."  He  pondered  for  a  moment  on 
the  improbability  that  daughter  Euphemia's  know 
ledge,  acquired  at  the  little  schoolhouse  where  the 
"show"  had  been  held,  was  exceeded  by  the  fund 
of  information  stored  in  the  brain-pan  of  any  single 
individual  since  the  world  began.  At  all  events, 
anxiety,  complications,  familiar  association  in  the 
sanctions  of  the  fireside,  impended.  This  was  a 
man  with  a  secret,  and,  innocent  or  guilty,  a 
stranger  to  his  host.  He  must  be  quick,  for  Mrs. 
Sims  —  transparent  Mrs.  Sims !  —  was  even  now 
evolving  methods  by  which  Euphemia  might  be 
summoned  peremptorily  from  I'iomingo  Cove,  and 
canvassing  means  of  transportation.  She  chuckled 
even  amidst  her  anxieties.  The  juggler,  in  all  his 
experience,  —  and  his  conversation  now  and  again 
gave  intimations  that  he  was  a  man  of  cities  and 
had  seen  much  folk  in  his  time,  —  had  never 
viewed  aught  like  Euphemia,  and  if  scheming 
might  avail,  he  should  not  leave  Etowah  Cove  till 
this  crowning  mercy  was  vouchsafed  him. 

Whether  Tubal  Sims  vaunted  his  wife's  mental 
qualities  or  derided  them,  —  and  his  estimate 
swung  like  a  pendulum  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
as  her  views  coincided  with  his  or  differed  from 


THE  JUGGLER.  47 

them,  —  he  knew  that  on  this  topic  she  was  im 
movable.  To  pierce  the  juggler's  heart  by  a  dart 
still  more  mystic  and  subtle  than  aught  his  skill 
could  wield  was  her  motive.  Help  must  come,  if 
at  all,  from  without  the  domestic  circle.  He 
waited,  doubtful,  until  after  dinner,  and  as  he 
looked  about  for  his  hat,  his  resolution  taken  after 
much  brooding  thought,  he  noted  a  change  in  the 
weather  -  signs.  The  wind  was  blowing  crisply 
through  the  open  passage.  The  mists  had  lifted. 
The  river,  dully  gurgling  in  the  dreary  early 
morning,  had  begun  anew  its  lapsing  sibilant  song 
that  seemed  a  concomitant  of  the  sunshine ;  for 
the  slanting  afternoon  glitter  was  on  the  water 
here  and  there,  and  high  on  the  mountain  side  all 
the  various  green  possible  to  spring  foliage  was 
elicited  by  the  broad  expanse  of  the  golden  sheen 
that  came  down  from  the  west.  He  noted,  as  he 
took  his  way  along  the  road,  that  the  recumbent 
figure  once  again  on  the  ledge  below  was  not 
asleep,  for  the  juggler  lifted  his  hand  as  the  rocks 
above  began  to  reflect  the  beams  on  the  water  in 
a  tremulous  shimmer,  and  drew  his  hat  further 
over  his  eyes.  "Ye  mought  hev  better  comp'ny 
'n  yer  thoughts,  Mr.  Showman,  I  'm  a-thinkin'," 
Tubal  Sims  muttered,  and  he  mended  his  pace. 

His  path,  much  trodden,  wended  along  about 
the  base  of  the  range,  and  finally,  by  a  series  of 
zigzag  curves,  began  to  ascend  the  slope.  The 
clouds,  white,  tenuous,  were  flying  high  now. 
The  sun  had  grown  hot.  Already  the  moisture 


48  T1IK   JUGGLER. 

was  dried  from  the  wayside  foliage  of  laurel  as  he 
came  upon  the  projecting  spur  of  the  range  where 
the  lime-burners  worked.  The  logs,  protected 
from  the  rain  by  a  ledge  of  the  cliff,  had  been 
piled  anew  with  layers  of  limestone,  and  tin-  primi 
tive  process  of  calcination  had  begun  once  more. 
Here  and  there  were  great  heaps  of  fragments  of 
rock  placed  close  at  hand,  and  numerous  trees  had 
been  filled  for  fuel  and  lay  at  length  on  the 
ground,  yet  so  dense  was  the  forest  that  the  loss 
was  not  appreciable  to  the  eye.  The  stumps  and 
boles  of  these  trees  furnished  seats  for  a  number 
of  lounging  mountaineers,  in  every  attitude  tliat 
might  express  a  listless  sloth.  Those  who  -had 
come  to  work  felt  that  they  had  earned  a  respite 
from  labor,  and  those  who  had  come  to  talk  has 
tened  to  utilize  the  opportunity.  Their  convei Ca 
tion  was  something  more  brisk  than  usual,  acceler 
ated  by  interest  in  a  new  and  uncommon  topic.  As 
Sims  had  foreseen,  the  events  of  the  previous  even 
ing  occupied  every  thought,  and  several  of  the 
group  experienced  a  freshened  joy  in  detailing 
them  anew  to  Peter  Knowles,  who  alone  of  all  the 
neighborhood  for  a  circuit  of  twenty  mil«  -.  hud 
been  absent.  He  had  heard  every  incident  re 
peatedly  rehearsed  without  showing  a  sign  of  flag 
ging  interest.  Now  and  then  he  bent  his  brows 
and  looked  down  at  the  quicklime  scattered  on  the 
ground,  and  silently  meditated  on  its  capacity  to 
destroy  flesh  and  bone  and  on  the  juggler's  unhal 
lowed  curiosity. 


THE  JUGGLER.  49 

"A  body  dunno  how  ter  git  his  own  cornsent 
ter  b'lieve  his  own  eyesight,"  one  of  the  men  re 
flectively  averred.  The  interval  since  witnessing 
the  astounding  feats  of  the  prestidigitator  had  af 
forded  space  for  rumination,  and  but  served  to 
deepen  the  impression  of  possibilities  set  at  naught 
and  miracles  enacted. 

"That  thar  man  air  in  league  with  Satan," 
declared  another.  "Surely,  surely  he  air."  He 
accentuated  his  words  with  his  long  lean  forefinger 
shaken  impressively  at  the  group. 

"Ye  mark  my  words,"  said  Peter  Knowles  sud 
denly,  still  eying  the  refuse  of  quicklime  on  the 
ground,  "no  good  hev  kem  inter  the  Cove  with 
that  thar  man." 

"Whar  'd  he  kem  from,  ennyhows?"  demanded 
the  first  speaker. 

"Whar  'd  he  kem  from?"  repeated  Knowles, 
peering  over  the  great  kiln.  "From  hell,  my 
frien',  — straight  from  hell." 

He  had  the  combined  drone  and  whine  which  he 
esteemed  appropriate  to  the  clerical  office;  for 
although  he  had  never  experienced  a  "call,"  he 
deemed  himself  singularly  fitted  for  that  vocation 
by  virtue  of  a  disposition  to  hold  forth  at  great 
length  to  any  one  who  would  listen  to  his  views  on 
religious  themes,  —  and  in  this  region,  where  time 
is  plenty  and  industry  scanty,  he  seldom  lacked 
listeners,  —  a  conscience  ever  sensitive  to  the  sins 
of  other  people,  and  great  freedom  in  the  use  of 
such  Scriptural  terms  as  are  debarred  to  persons 


50  TEE  JUGGLER. 

not  naturally  profane  or  suffering  under  the  stress 
of  extreme  rage. 

"Waal,  sir!  "  exclaimed  old  man  Cobbs,  sitting 
on  a  stump  and  gently  nursing  his  knee.  He 
spoke  with  a  voice  of  deep  reprehension,  and  as 
simple  an  acceptance  of  the  possibility  of  hailing 
from  the  place  in  question  as  if  it  were  geographi 
cally  extaat. 

Ormsby,  who  had  been  standing  leaning  on  an 
axe,  silently  listening,  laughed  slightly  at  this,  — 
an  incredulous  laugh.  "Folks  ez  git  ter  that  ken- 
try  don't  git  back  in  a  hurry,"  he  drawled  negli 
gently,  but  with  a  manifest  satisfaction  in  the  <  ir- 
cumstance,  as  if  he  knew  of  sundry  departed 
wights  whom  he  esteemed  well  placed. 

"How  d'  ye  know  they  don't?  "  demanded  Peter 
Knowles.  "Ain't  ye  never  read  the  Scriptures 
enough  ter  sense  them  lines,  '  Satan  was  a-walkin' 
up  and  down  through  the  yearth,'  ye  blunderin' 
buzzard,  an'  he  fell  from  heaven?  " 

The  young  fellow's  robust  figure  was  clearly 
defined  against  the  western  sky.  He  swung  his 
axe  nonchalantly  now,  for  to  be  an  adept  in  read 
ing  and  remembering  the  Scriptures  was  not  the 
height  of  his  ambition.  Nevertheless,  the  idea  of 
the  possibility  of  being  in  the  orbit,  as  it  were,  of 
an  earthly  stroll  of  the  Prince  of  Darkness  roused 
him  to  argument  and  insistence  on  a  less  terrifying 
solution  of  the  mystery. 

"He  telled  it  ter  me  ez  he  kem  from  Happy 
Valley,"  he  volunteered. 


THE  JUGGLER.  51 

The  elders  of  the  party  stared  at  one  another. 
The  fire  roared  suddenly  as  a  log  broke,  burned  in 
twain;  the  limestone  fragments,  still  crude,  went 
rattling  down  into  the  crevices  its  fall  had  made. 
Peter  Knowles's  arm,  with  the  free  ministerial 
gesticulation  which  he  was  wont  to  copy,  fixed  the 
absurdity  upon  Ormsby  even  before  he  spoke. 

"Don't  ye  know  that  thar  Philistine  ain't  got 
sech  speech  ez  them  ez  lives  in  Happy  Valley,  nor 
thar  clothes,  nor  thar  raisin',  nor  thar  manners, 
nor  thar  ways,  nor  thar  —  nuthin'?  Don't  you- 
uns  sense  that?  " 

"I  'lowed  ez  much  ter  him,"  replied  Ormsby, 
a  trifle  browbeaten  by  the  seniority  of  his  inter 
locutor  and  the  difficulty  of  the  subject.  "I  up-ed 
an'  said,  '  Ye  ain't  nowise  like  folks  ez  live  in 
Happy  Valley.  Ter  look  at  ye,  I  'd  set  it  down 
fur  true  ez  ye  hed  never  been  in  the  shadder  o' 
Chilhowee  all  yer  days. ' ' 

"An'  what  did  he  say,  bub?"  demanded  old 
man  Cobbs  gently,  after  a  moment  of  waiting. 

"Great  Gosh,  yes!"  exclaimed  Peter  Knowles 
explosively.  "We-uns  ain't  a-waitin'  hyar  ter 
hear  you-uns  tell  yer  talk;  ennybody  could  hev 
said  that  an'  mo'.  What  did  the  man  say?  " 

Ormsby  turned  doubtfully  toward  the  descend 
ing  sun  and  the  reddening  sky.  "We-uns  war 
a-lumtin',  me  an'  that  juggler.  I  seen  him  yes- 
tiddy  mornin'.  I  went  down  thar  ter  Mis'  Sims' 
an'  happened  ter  view  him.  An'  I  loant  him  my 
brother's  gun.  An'  whenst  I  said  that  'bout  his 


52  THE  JUGGLER. 

looks  an'  sech,  we  wara-huntin',  an'  he  'peared  not 
ter  know  thar  war  enny  Happy  Valley  'way  over 
yander  by  Chilhowee.  An'  I  tuk  him  up  high  on 
the  mounting  \\har  he  could  look  over  fur  off  an'  see 
the  Rich  Woods  an'  Happy  Valley,  an'  —  an' ' 
He  paused. 

"An*  what  did  he  say?"  inquired  Knowles 
eagerly. 

Ormsby  looked  embarrassed.  "He  jes'  say," 
he  went  on  suddenly,  as  if  with  an  effort,  "he  jes' 
say,  '  Oh,  Dr.  Johnson! '  an'  bust  out  a-lafiin'.  I 
dunno  what  the  critter  meant." 

Once  more  Ormsby  turned,  swinging  his  axe  in 
his  strong  right  hand,  and  glanced  absently  over 
the  landscape. 

The  sun  was  gone.  The  mountains,  darkly 
glooming,  rose  high  above  the  Cove  on  i-vrry  si«l«-, 
seeming  to  touch  the  translucent  amber  sky  that, 
despite  the  sunken  sun,  conserved  an  effect  of  illu 
mination  heightened  by  contrast  with  the  fringes 
of  hemlock  and  pine,  that  had  assumed  a  sombre 
purple  hue,  waving  against  its  crystalline  concave. 
In  this  suffusion  of  reflected  color,  rather  than  in 
the  medium  of  daylight,  he  beheld  the  scanty  fields 
below  in  the  funnel-like  basin;  for  this  projecting 
spur  near  the  base  of  the  range  gave  an  outlook 
over  the  lower  levels  at  hand.  Some  cows.  In- 
could  discern,  were  still  wending  homeward  along 
an  undulating  red  clay  road,  which  rose  and  fell 
till  the  woods  intervened.  The  woods  were  black. 
Night  was  afoot  there  amongst  the  shadowy  boughs, 


THE  JUGGLER.  53 

for  all  the  golden  glow  of  the  feigning  sky.  The 
evening  mists  were  adrift  along  the  ravines.  Ever 
and  anon  the  flames  flickered  out,  red  and  yellow, 
from  the  heap  of  logs.  Not  a  sound  stirred  the 
group  as  they  pondered  on  this  strange  reply,  till 
Ormsby  said  reflectively,  "The  juggler  be  toler'ble 
good  comp'ny,  though, — nuthin'  like  the  devil 
an'  sech;  leastwise,  so  much  ez  I  know  'bout 
Satan,"  —  he  seemed  to  defer  to  the  superior  ac 
quaintanceship  of  Knowles.  "This  hyar  valley- 
man  talks  powerful  pleasant;  an'  he  kin  sing, — 
jes'  set  up  an'  sing  like  a  plumb  red-headed  mock- 
in'-bird,  that 's  what!  You-uns  hearn  him  sing  at 
the  show,"  —  he  turned  from  Knowles  to  appeal  to 
the  rest  of  the  group. 

"Did  he  'pear  ter  you-uns,  whilst  huntin',  ter 
try  enny  charms  an'  spells  on  the  wild  critters?  " 
asked  Knowles. 

"They  didn't  work  ef  he  did!  "  exclaimed  Jack 
Ormsby,  with  a  great  gush  of  laughter  that  startled 
the  echoes  into  weird  unmirthful  response.  "He 
shot  one  yallerhammer  arter  travelin'  nigh  ten 
mile  ter  git  him."  After  a  pause,  "I  gin  him  the 
best  chance  at  a  deer  I  ever  hed.  I  never  see 
a  feller  hev  the  '  buck  ager '  so  bad.  He  never 
witched  that  deer.  He  shot  plumb  two  feet  too 
high.  She  jes'  went  a-bouncin'  by  him  down  the 
mounting, — bouncin'  yit,  I  reckon!  But  he  kin 
shoot  toler'ble  fair  at  a  mark."  The  ready  laugh 
ter  again  lighted  his  face.  "He  'lows  he  likes  a 
mark  ter  shoot  at  kase  it  stands  still.  He  's  plumb 
pleasant  comp'ny  sure." 


54  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Waal,  he  ain't  been  sech  powerful  pleasant 
comp'ny  down  ter  my  house,"  protested  Tubal 
Sims.  "Ain't  got  a  word  ter  say,  an'  'pears  like 
he  ain't  got  the  heart  ter  eat  a  mouthful  o'  vittles. 
Yander  he  hev  been  a-lyin'  flat  on  them  wet  rocks 
all  ter-day,  with  no  mo'  keer  o'  the  rheumatics  'n 
ef  he  war  a  bullfrog, — a-feeshin'  in  the  ruver 
with  a  hook  'thout  no  bait  on  it." 

"What  'd  he  ketch?"  demanded  one  of  the 
men,  with  a  quick  glance  of  alarm.  Miracles  for 
the  purpose  of  exhibition  and  cutting  a  dash  they 
esteemed  far  less  repellent  to  the  moral  sense  than 
the  use  of  uncommon  powers  to  serve  the  ordinary 
purposes  of  daily  life. 

"Pleurisy,  ef  he  got  his  deserts,"  observed  the 
disaffected  host.  "He  caught  nuthin'  with  ez 
much  sense  ez  a  stickle-back.  'Pears  ter  me  he 
ain't  well,  nohow.  He  groaned  a  power  in  his 
sleep  las'  night,  arter  the  show.  An"  —he  felt 
he  ventured  on  dangerous  ground  —  "he  talked, 
too." 

There  was  a  significant  silence.  "That  thar 
man  hev  got  suthin'  on  his  mind,"  muttered  Peter 
Knowles. 

"I  be  powerful  troubled  myself,"  returned  the 
level-headed  Sims  weakly.  "I  oughtn't  ter  hev 
tuk  him  in,  —  him  a  stranger,  though  "  —  he  re 
membered  the  hospitable  text  in  time  for  a  flimsy 
self-justification.  "But  't  war  a-stormin'  po\v»-r- 
ful,  and  he  'peared  plumb  beat  out.  I  'lowed 
that  night  he  war  goin'  inter  some  sort'n  fever  or 


THE  JUGGLER.  55 

dee-lerium.  I  put  him  inter  the  roof-room,  an* 
he  went  ter  bed  ez  soon  ez  he  could  git  thar.  But 
the  iiex'  day  he  war  ez  fraish  an'  gay  ez  a  jay 
bird." 

"What 's  he  talk  'bout  whenst  sleepin'  ?  "  asked 
Peter  Knowles,  his  covert  glance  once  more  revert 
ing  to  the  refuse  of  quicklime  at  his  feet. 

"Suthin'  he  never  lays  his  tongue  ter  whenst 
wakin',  I  '11  be  bound,"  replied  Tubal  Sims  pre 
cipitately.  Then  he  hesitated.  This  disclosure 
was,  he  felt,  a  flagrant  breach  of  hospitality. 
What  right  had  he  to  listen  to  the  disjointed  ex 
clamations  of  his  guest  in  his  helplessness  as  he 
slept,  place  his  own  interpretation  upon  them,  and 
retail  them  to  others  for  their  still  more  inimical 
speculation  ?  Jane  Ann  Sims,  —  how  he  would 
have  respected  her  judgment  had  she  been  a  man ! 
—  he  was  sure,  would  not  have  given  the  words  a 
second  thought.  But  then  her  habit  of  mind  was 
incredulous.  Parson  Greenought  often  told  her 
that  he  ffeared  her  faith  was  not  sufficient  to  take 
her  to  heaven.  "I  be  dependin'  on  suthin'  bet 
ter  'n  that,  pa'son,"  she  would  smilingly  rejoin. 
"I  ain't  lookin'  ter  my  own  pore  mind  an'  my 
own  wicked  heart  fur  holp.  An'  ye  mark  my 
words,  I  '11  be  the  fust  nangel  ye  shake  han's  with 
when  ye  git  inside  the  golden  door."  And  the 
parson,  impaled  on  his  own  weapons,  could  only 
suggest  that  they  should  sing  a  hymn  together, 
which  they  did,  —  Jane  Ann  Sims  much  the  louder 
of  the  two. 


56  Tin  hK. 

Admirable  woman !  she  had  but  a  single  weak 
ness,  and  this  Tubal  Cain  Sims  WHS  aware  that  he 
shared.  With  the  returning  thought  of  their 
household  idol,  Euphemia,  every  consideration  im 
posing  reticence  vanished. 

"Last  night,"  he  began  suddenly,  "I  war  so 
conflusticated  with  the  goin's-on  ez  I  couldn't 
sleep  fur  a  while.  An'  ez  I  sot  downsteers  afore 
the  fire,  I  could  but  take  notice  o'  how  oneasy  this 
man  'peared  in  his  sleep  up  in  the  roof -room.  He 
sighed  an'  groaned  like  suthin'  in  agony.  An' 
then  he  says,  so  painful,  '  But  the  one  who  lives  — 
oh,  what  can  I  do  —  the  one  who  lives!  fur  his 
life !  —  his  life !  —  his  life ! '  He  paused  abruptly 
to  mark  the  petrified  astonishment  on  the  group  of 
faces  growing  white  in  the  closing  dusk. 

An  owl  began  to  hoot  in  the  bosky  recesses  far 
up  the  slope.  At  the  sound,  carrying  far  in  the 
twilight  stillness,  a  hound  bayed  from  the  door  of 
the  little  cabin  in  the  Cove,  by  the  river.  A  light, 
stellular  in  the  gloom  that  hung  about  the  lower 
levels,  suddenly  sprung  up  in  the  window.  A 
tremulous  elongated  reflection  shimmered  in  the 
shallows  close  under  the  bank  where  the  juggler 
had  been  lying.  Was  he  there  yet?  Sims  won 
dered,  quivering  with  the  excitement  of  the  mo 
ment. 

His  anxiety  was  not  quelled,  but  a  great  relief 
came  upon  him  when  Peter  Kiiowles  echoed  his  own 
thought,  which  seemed  thus  the  natural  sequence 
of  the  event,  and  not  some  far-fetched  fantasy. 


THE  JUGGLER.  57 

"That  thar  man  hev  killed  somebody,  ez  sure  ez 
ye  live!"  exclaimed  Peter  Knowles.  "'But  the 
one  who  lives!  '  An'  who  is  the  one  who  died?" 

"Jes'  so,  jes'  so,"  interpolated  Sims,  reassured 
to  see  his  own  mental  process  so  definitely  dupli 
cated  in  the  thoughts  of  a  man  held  to  be  of  expe 
rienced  and  just  judgment,  and  much  regarded  in 
the  community. 

"He  be  a-runnin'  from  jestice,"  resumed 
Knowles.  "He  ain't  no  juggler,  ez  he  calls  his- 
self." 

There  was  a  general  protest. 

"Shucks,  Pete,  ye  oughter  seen  him  swaller  a 
bay 'net." 

"An'  Mis'  Sims  tole  him  she  'd  resk  her  shears 
on  it,  she  jes'  felt  so  reckless  an'  plumb  kerried 
away.  An'  he  swallered  them,  too,  an'  then  tuk 
'em  out'n  his  throat,  sharp  ez  ever." 

"An'  he  swallered  a  paper  o'  needles  an'  a 
spool  o'  thread,  an'  brung  'em  out'n  his  mouth  all 
threaded." 

There  was  a  delighted  laugh  rippling  round  the 
circle. 

"  Look-a-hyar,  my  frien's,"  remonstrated  Peter 
Knowles  in  a  solemn,  sepulchral  voice,  "I  never 
viewed  none  o'  these  doin's,  but  ye  air  all  'bleeged 
ter  know  ez  they  air  on-possible,  the  devices  o'  the 
devil.  An'  hyar  ye  be,  perfessin'  Christians, 
a-laffin'  at  them  wiles  ez  air  laid  ter  delude  the 
on  wary." 

There  was  a  general  effort  to  recover  a  sobri- 


58  THK  JUGGLER. 

ety  of  demeanor,  and  one  of  the  men  then  observed 
gravely  that  on  the  occasion  when  these  wonders 
were  exhibited  Parson  Benias  Greenought  taxed 
the  performer  with  this  supposition. 

"Waal,"  remarked  Orinsby,  "ye  air  'bleeged 
ter  hev  tuk  notice,  ef  ye  war  thar  las'  night,  ez 
old  Benias  never  moved  toe  or  toe-nail  till  arter  all 
the  jinks  war  most  over.  He  seen  nigh  all  thar 
war  ter  see  'fore  he  'lowed  how  the  sinners  war 
enj'yin'  tharse'fs,  an'  called  up  the  devil  ter  len' 
a  han'." 

"What  the  man  say?"  demanded  Peter 
Knowles. 

"He  'peared  cornsider'ble  set  back  a-fust,  an' 
then  he  tried  ter  laff  it  off,"  replied  Gideon  Beck. 
"He  'lowed  he  could  1'arn  sech  things  ter  folks  ez 
he  had  1'arnt  'em,  too." 

"Now  tell  me  one  thing,"  argued  Peter  Knowles; 
"how  's  a  man  goin'  ter  1'arn  a  pusson  ter  put  a 
persimmon  seed  in  a  pail  o'  yearth,  an'  lay  a  cloth 
over  it,  an'  sing  some  foolishness,  an'  take  off'n 
the  cloth,  an'  thar  's  a  persimmon  shoot  with  a 
root  ez  long  ez  my  han'  a-growin'  in  that  yearth?  " 

There  were  sundry  gravely  shaken  heads. 

"Mis'  Jernigan  jes'  went  plumb  inter  the  high- 
strikes,  she  got  so  skeered,  an'  they  hed  ter  take 
her  home  in  the  wagon,"  said  Beck. 

"Old  man  Jernigan  hed  none;  the  las'  time  I 
viewed  him  he  war  a-tryin'  ter  swaller  old  Mi-' 
Jernigan  s  big  shears  hisse'f,"  retorted  Ormbsy. 

"Mis'  Jernigan  ain't  never  got  the  rights  o' 


THE  JUGGLER.  59 

herself  yit,  an'  her  cow  hev  done  gone  dry,  too," 
observed  Beck. 

"Tell  me,  my  brethren,  what 's  them  words  mean, 
— '  the  one  who  lives  '?"  insisted  Peter  Knowles 
significantly.  "Sure  's  ye  air  born,  thar  's  another 
verse  an'  chapter  ter  that  sayin'.  Who  war  the 
one  who  died?  " 

Once  more  awe  settled  down  upon  the  little 
group.  The  wind  had  sprung  up.  Now  and 
again  pennons  of  flame  flaunted  out  from  the  great 
heap  of  logs  and  stones,  and  threw  livid  bars  of 
light  athwart  the  landscape,  which  pulsated  visibly 
as  the  blaze  rose  and  fell,  —  now  seeming  strangely 
distinct  and  near  at  hand,  now  receding  into  the 
darkness  and  distance.  Mystery  affiliated  with 
the  time  and  place,  and  there  was  scant  responsive 
ness  to  Ormsby's  protest  as  he  once  more  sought 
to  befriend  the  absent  juggler. 

"I  can't  git  my  corn  sent  ter  b'lieve  ez  thar  be 
enny  dead  one.  I  reckon  the  feller  war  talkin' 
'bout  his  kemin'  powerful  nigh  dyin'  hisself.  He 
'lowed  ter  me  ez  he  hed  a  mighty  great  shock  jes' 
afore  he  kern  hyar, — what  made  him  so  diff'ent 
a-fust." 

"Shocked  by  lightning?"  demanded  Peter 
Knowles  dubiously. 

"I  reckon  so;  never  hearn  on  no  other  kind." 

"Waal,  now,"  said  Tubal  Sims,  who  had  sought 
during  this  discussion  to  urge  his  views  on  the 
coterie,  "I  'low  that  the  Cove  ought  not  ter  take 
up  with  sech  jubious  doin's  ez  these." 


60  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Lawsy  massy!"  exclaimed  Beck,  with  the  up 
lifted  eyebrows  of  derision,  "las'  night  you-uns 
an'  Mis'  Sims  too  'peared  plumb  kerried  away, 
jes'  bodaciously  dee-lighted,  with  the  juggler  an' 
all  his  pay-formances ! " 

There  is  naught  in  all  our  moral  economy  which 
can  suffer  a  change  without  discredit  and  dispar 
agement,  barring  what  is  known  as  a  change  of 
heart.  It  is  a  clumsy  and  awkward  mental  evolu 
tion  at  best,  as  the  turncoat  in  politics,  the  apolo 
gist  for  discarded  friendships,  the  fickle-minded  in 
religious  doctrines,  know  to  their  cost.  The  pro 
cess  of  veering  is  attended  invariably  with  a  poign 
ant  mortification,  as  if  one  had  warranted  one's 
opinions  infallible,  and  to  endure  till  time  shall  be 
no  more.  Tubal  Cain  Sims  experienced  all  the 
ignominious  sensations  known  as  "eatin'  crow," 
as  he  sought  to  qualify  his  satisfaction  of  the  pre 
vious  evening,  and  reconcile  it  to  his  complete 
change  of  sentiment  now,  without  giving  his  true 
reason.  It  would  involve  scant  courtesy  to  the 
absent  Eupbemia  to  intimate  his  fears  lest  she 
admire  too  much  the  juggler,  and  it  might  excite 
ridicule  to  suggest  his  certainty  that  the  juggler 
would  admire  her  far  too  much.  Sometimes,  in 
deed,  he  doubted  if  other  people  —  that  is,  above 
the  age  of  twenty-five  —  entertained  the  rapturous 
estimate  of  Euphemia,  which  was  a  subject  on 
which  he  and  Jane  Ann  Sims  never  differed. 

"I  did,  —  I  did,"  he  sputtered.  "Me  an'  Jane 
Ann  nare  one  never  seen  no  harm  in  the  pay -form- 


THE  JUGGLER.  61 

ance.  An'  Jane  Ann  don't  know  nuthin'  con- 
trarious  yit,  kase  I  ain't  tole  her,  —  she  bein'  a 
'oman,  an'  liable  ter  talk  free  an'  let  her  tongue 
git  a-goin' ;  she  dunno  whar  ter  stop.  A  man 
ought  n't  ter  tell  his  wife  sech  ez  he  aims  ter  go 
no  f order,"  he  added  discursively. 

"  'Thout  he  wants  all  the  Cove  ter  be  a-gabblin' 
over  it  nex'  day,"  assented  a  husband  of  three 
experiments.  "I  know  wimmin.  Lawsy  massy! 
I  know  'em  now."  He  shook  his  head  lugubri 
ously,  as  if  his  education  in  feminine  quirks  and 
wiles  had  gone  hard  with  him,  and  he  could  will 
ingly  have  dispensed  with  a  surplusage  of  learning. 

"But  arter  I  hearn  them  strange  words,"  re 
sumed  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  —  "them  strange  words, 
so  painful  an'  pitiful-spoken,  — I  drawed  the  same 
idee  ez  Peter  Knowles  thar.  I  'lowed  the  juggler 
war  some  sort'n  evil-doer  agin  the  law,  —  though 
he  didn't  look  like  it  ter  me." 

"He  did  ter  me;  he  featured  it  from  the  fust," 
Knowles  protested,  with  a  stern  drawing  down  of 
his  forbidding  face. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause  while  they  all 
seemed  to  meditate  on  the  evidence  afforded  by  the 
personal  appearance  of  the  juggler. 

"I  be  afeard,"  continued  Sims,  glancing  at 
Knowles,  "like  Pete  say,  he  hev  c'mmitted  murder 
an'  be  fleein'  from  the  law.  An'  I  be  a  law- 
abidin'  citizen  —  an'  —  an'  —  he  can't  stay  at  my 
house." 

There  was  silence.     No  one  was  interested  in 


62  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  impeccability  of  Tubal  Cain  Sims's  house.  It 
was  his  castle.  He  was  free  to  say  who  should 
come  and  who  should  go.  His  own  responsibility 
was  its  guarantee. 

It  is  a  pathetic  circumstance  in  human  affairs 
that  the  fact  of  how  little  one's  personal  difficul 
ties  and  anxieties  and  turmoils  of  mind  count  to 
one's  friends  can  only  be  definitely  ascertained  by 
the  experiment  made  in  the  thick  of  these  troubles. 

With  a  sudden  return  of  his  wonted  perspica 
city,  Sims  said,  "That  thar  man  oughter  be  gin 
notice  ter  leave.  I  call  on  ye  all  —  ye  all  live 
round  'bout  the  Cove  —  ter  git  him  out'n  it." 

There  was  a  half-articulate  grumble  of  protest 
and  surprise. 

"It's  yer  business  ter  make  him  go,  ef  yer 
don't  want  him  in  yer  house,"  said  Peter  Knowles, 
looking  loweringly  at  Sims. 

"I  ain't  got  nuthin'  agin  him,"  declared  Sims 
excitedly,  holding  both  empty  palms  upward.  "I 
can't  say,  *  Git  out;  ye  talk  in  yer  sleep,  an'  ye 
don't  talk  ter  suit  me!'  But,"  fixing  the  logic 
upon  them  with  weighty  emphasis  and  a  significant 
pause,  "you-uns  all  b'lieve  ez  he  air  in  league 
with  Satan,  an'  his  jinks  air  deviltries  an'  sech. 
An'  so  be,  ye  ought  ter  make  him  take  hisself  an' 
his  conjurin's  off  from  hyar  'fore  he  witches  the 
craps,  or  spirits  away  the  lime,  or  tricks  the  mill, 
or —  He  ought  ter  be  gin  hours  ter  cl'ar  out." 

Peter  Knowles  roused  himself  to  argument.  He 
had  developed  a  vivid  curiosity  concerning  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  63 

juggler.  The  suggestion  of  the  devil's  agency 
was  a  far  cry  to  his  fears,  —  be  it  remembered  he 
had  not  seen  the  bayonet  swallowed !  —  and  he  had 
phenomenal  talents  for  contrariety,  and  graced  the 
opposition  with  great  persistence  and  powers  of 
contradiction. 

"Bein'  ez  ye  hev  reason  ter  suspect  that  man  o' 
murder  or  sech,  we-uns  ain't  got  the  right  ter  give 
him  hours  ter  leave.  Ye  ain't  got  the  right  ter 
turn  him  out'n  yer  house  ter  escape  from  the  off'- 
cers  o'  the  law." 

The  crowd,  always  on  the  alert  for  a  sensation, 
pricked  up  their  willing  ears.  "Naw,  ye  ain't," 
more  than  one  asseverated. 

U'T  would  jes'  be  holpin'  him  on  his  run  from 
jestice,"  declared  Beck.  "Further  he  gits,  fur 
ther  the  sher'ff  '11  hev  ter  f oiler,  an'  mo'  chance 
o'  losin'  him." 

"They  be  on  his  track  now,  I  reckon,"  said  old 
Josiah  Cobbs  dolorously. 

"It 's  the  jewty  o'  we-uns  in  the  Cove,"  resumed 
Peter  Knowles,  "ter  keep  a  stric'  watch  on  him 
an'  see  ter  it  he  don't  git  away  'fore  the  sher'ff 
tracks  him  hyar." 

Tubal  Sims's  blood  ran  cold.  A  man  sitting 
daily  at  his  table  under  the  espionage  of  all  the 
Cove  as  a  murderer !  A  man  sleeping  in  his  best 
feather-bed  —  and  the  way  he  floundered  in  its  un 
accustomed  depths  nothing  but  a  porpoise  could 
emulate  —  till  the  sheriff  of  the  county  should  come 
to  hale  him  out  to  the  ignominious  quarters  of  the 


64  THE  JUGGLER. 

common  jail!  Jane  Ann  Sims  —  how  his  heart 
sank  as  he  thought  that  had  lie  first  taken  counsel 
of  her  he  would  not  now  be  in  a  position  to  n cci\  • 
his  orders  from  Peter  Knowles !  —  to  be  in  daily 
friendly  association  with  this  strange  guest,  to  be 
sitting  at  home  now  calmly  stitching  cuffs  for  a 
man  who  might  be  wearing  handcuffs  before  day 
light!  Euphemia —  when  he  thought  of  Euphe- 
mia  he  rose  precipitately  from  the  rock  on  which 
he  was  seated.  In  twenty-four  hours  Euphemia 
should  be  in  Buncombe  County,  North  Carolina, 
where  his  sister  lived.  The  juggler  should  never 
see  her;  for  who  knew  what  lengths  Jane  Ann 
Situs's  vicarious  love  of  admiration  would  carry 
her?  If  the  man  were  but  on  his  knees,  what 
cared  she  what  the  Cove  thought  of  him?  And 
Euphemia  should  never  see  the  juggler!  Tul>al 
Sims  hurried  down  the  darkening  way,  hearing 
without  heeding  the  voices  of  his  late  comrades, 
all  dispersing  homeward  by  devious  paths,  —  now 
loud  in  the  still  twilight,  now  veiled  and  indistinct 
in  the  distance.  The  chirring  of  the  myriad  noc 
turnal  insects  was  rising  from  every  bush,  louder, 
more  confident,  refreshed  by  the  recent  rain,  and 
the  frogs  chanted  by  the  riverside. 

He  had  reached  the  lower  levels  at  last.  He 
glanced  up  and  saw  the  first  timid  palpitant  star 
spring  forth  with  a  glitter  into  the  midst  of  the 
neutral-tinted  ether,  and  then,  as  if  affrighted  at 
the  vast  voids  of  the  untenanted  skies,  disappear 
so  elusively  that  the  eye  might  not  mark  the  spot 


THE  JUGGLER.  65 

where  that  white  crystalline  flake  had  trembled. 
It  was  early  yet.  He  strode  up  to  his  own  house, 
whence  the  yellow  light  glowed  from  the  window. 
He  stopped  suddenly,  his  heart  sinking  like  lead. 
There  on  the  step  of  the  passage  sat  Euphemia, 
her  elbow  on  her  knee,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her 
eyes  pensively  fixed  on  the  uncertain  kindling  of 
that  pioneer  star  once  more  blazing  out  the  road 
in  the  evening  sky. 


III. 

EUPHEMIA  could  hardly  have  said  what  it  was 
that  had  brought  her  home,  —  some  vague  yet  po 
tent  impulse,  some  occult,  unimagined  power  of 
divination,  some  subjection  to  her  mother's  will 
constraining  her,  or  simply  the  intuition  that  there 
was  some  opportunity  for  mischief  unimproved. 
Tubal  Cain  Sims  shook  his  head  dubiously  as  he 
canvassed  each  theory.  He  ventured  to  ask  the 
views  of  Mrs.  Sims,  after  he  had  partaken  of  the 
supper  set  aside  for  him  —  for  the  meal  was  con 
cluded  before  his  return  —  and  had  lighted  his 
pipe. 

"What  brung  her  home?  Them  stout  leetle 
brogans, — that's  what,"  said  Mrs.  Sims,  chuc 
kling  between  the  whiffs  of  her  own  pipe. 

"Course  I  know  the  chile  walked.  I  reckon 
she  '11  hev  stone-bruises  a  plenty  arter  this,  —  full 
twelve  mile.  But  what  put  it  inter  her  head  ter 
kem?  She  'lowed  ter  me  she  ain't  dreamed  o' 
nuthin',  'ceptin'  Spot  hed  a  new  calf,  which  she 
ain't  got.  Reckon  'twar  a  leadin'  or  a  waruin' 
or"  — 

"I  reckon  'twar  homesickness.  Young  gals 
always  pine  fur  home,  special  ef  thar  ain't  nuthin' 
spry  goin'  on  in  a  new  place."  And  once  more 


THE   JUGGLER.  67 

Jane  Ann  Sims,  in  the  plenitude  of  her  triumph, 
chuckled. 

It  chanced,  that  afternoon,  that  when  the  red 
sunset  was  aflare  over  the  bronze-green  slopes  that 
encircled  the  Cove,  and  the  great  pine  near  at 
hand  began  to  sway  and  to  sing  and  to  cast  forth 
the  rich  benison  of  its  aroma  to  the  fresh  rain 
swept  air,  the  juggler  roused  himself,  pushed  back 
his  hat  from  his  eyes,  and  gazed  with  listless  mel 
ancholy  about  him.  Somehow  the  sweet  peace 
of  the  secluded  place  appealed  to  his  world-weary 
senses.  The  sounds,  —  the  distant,  mellow  lowing 
of  the  kine,  homeward  wending;  the  tinkle  of  a 
sheep-bell;  the  rhythmic  dash  of  the  river;  the 
ecstatic  cadenzas  of  a  mocking-bird,  so  intricate, 
delivered  with  such  dashing  elan,  so  marvelously 
clear  and  sweet  and  high  as  to  give  an  effect  as  of 
glitter,  —  all  were  so  harmoniously  bucolic.  He 
was  soothed  in  a  measure,  or  dulled,  as  he  drew 
a  long  sigh  of  relief  and  surcease  of  pain,  and 
began  to  experience  that  facile  renewal  of  interest 
common  to  youth  with  all  its  recuperative  facul 
ties.  It  fights  a  valiant  fight  with  sorrow  or  trou 
ble,  and  only  the  years  conquer  it  at  last.  For 
the  first  time  he  noted  among  the  budding  willows 
far  down  the  stream  a  roof  all  aslant,  which  he 
divined  at  once  was  the  mill.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
with  a  quickening  curiosity.  As  he  released  the 
futile  fishing-rod  and  wound  up  the  line  he  re 
marked  the  unbaited  hook.  His  face  changed 
abruptly  with  the  thought  of  his  absorption  and 
trouble.  He  pitied  himself. 


»'"s  THE  JUGGLER. 

The  road  down  which  he  took  his  way  described 
many  a  curve  seeking  to  obviate  the  precipitous- 
ness  of  the  descent.  The  rocks  rose  high  on  either 
side  for  a  time,  and  when  the  scene  beyond  broke 
upon  him  in  its  entirety  it  was  as  if  a  curtain  were 
suddenly  lifted.  How  shadowy,  how  fragrant  the 
budding  woods  above  the  calm  and  lustrous  water! 
The  mill,  its  walls  canted  askew,  dark  and  soaked 
with  the  rain,  and  its  mossy  roof  awry,  was  sombre 
and  silent.  Over  the  dam  the  water  fell  in  an  un 
broken  crystal  sheet  so  smooth  and  languorous  that 
it  seemed  motionless,  as  if  under  a  spell.  Ferns 
were  thick  on  a  marshy  slope  opposite,  where  scat 
tered  boulders  lay,  and  one  quivering  blossomy 
bough  of  a  dogwood-tree  leaned  over  its  white  re 
flection  in  the  water,  fairer  than  itself,  like  some 
fond  memory  embellishing  the  thing  it  images. 

With  that  sudden  sense  of  companionship  in 
loneliness  by  which  a  presence  is  felt  before  it  is 
perceived,  he  turned  sharply  back  as  he  was  about 
to  move  away,  and  glanced  again  toward  the  mill. 
A  young  girl  was  standing  in  the  doorway  in  an 
attitude  of  arrested  poise,  as  if  in  surprise. 

Timidity  was  not  the  juggler's  besetting  sin. 
He  lifted  his  hat  with  a  courteous  bow,  the  like 
of  which  had  never  been  seen  in  Etowah  Cove, 
and  thus  commending  himself  to  her  attention,  he 
took  his  way  toward  her  along  the  slant  of  the 
corduroy  road;  for  this  fleeting  glimpse  afforded 
to  him  a  more  vivid  suggestion  of  interest  than  the 
Cove  had  as  yet  been  able  to  present.  For  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  69 

first  time  since  reaching  its  confines  it  occurred  to 
him  that  it  might  be  possible  to  live  along  awhile 
yet.  Nevertheless,  he  contrived  to  keep  his  eyes 
decorously  void  of  expression,  and  occupied  them 
for  the  most  part  in  aiding  his  feet  to  find  their 
way  among  the  crevices  and  obstacles  with  which 
the  road  abounded.  When  he  paused,  he  asked, 
suffering  his  eyes  to  rest  inquiringly  on  the  girl, 
"  Beg  pardon,  but  will  you  kindly  inform  me  where 
is  the  miller?" 

The  glimpse  that  had  so  attracted  him  was,  he 
felt,  all  inadequate,  as  he  stood  and  gazed,  privi 
leged  by  virtue  of  his  simulated  interest  in  the 
absent  miller.  He  could  not  have  seen  from  the 
distance  how  fair,  how  dainty,  was  her  complexion, 
nor  the  crinkles  and  sparkles  of  gold  in  her  fine 
brown  hair.  It  waved  upward  from  her  low  brow 
in  a  heavy  undulation  which  he  would  have  dis 
criminated  as  "a  la  Pompadour,"  but  its  contour 
was  compassed  by  wearing  far  backward  a  round 
comb,  the  chief  treasure  of  her  possessions,  the 
heavy  masses  of  hair  rising  smoothly  toward  the 
front,  and  falling  behind  in  long,  loose  ringlets 
about  her  shoulders.  She  had  a  delicate  chin  with 
a  deep  dimple,  —  which  last  reminded  him  unplea 
santly  of  Mrs.  Sims,  for  dimples  were  henceforth 
at  a  discount ;  a  fine,  thin,  straight  nose ;  two  dark 
silken  eyebrows,  each  describing  a  perfect  arc; 
and  surely  there  were  never  created  for  the  be- 
guilement  of  man  two  such  large,  lustrous  gray- 
blue  eyes,  long-lashed,  deep-set,  as  those  which 


70  THE  JUGGLER. 

served  Euphemia  Sims  for  the  comparatively  un 
important  function  of  vision.  He  had  hardly  been 
certain  whether  her  attire  was  more  or  less  gro 
tesque  than  the  costume  of  the  other  mountain 
women  until  she  lifted  these  eyes  and  completed  the 
charm  of  the  unique  apparition.  She  wore  a  calico 
bought  by  the  yard  at  the  store,  and  accounted  but 
a  flimsy  fabric  by  the  homespun-weaving  mountain 
women.  It  was  of  a  pale  green  tint,  and  had  once 
been  sprinkled  over  with  large  dark  green  leaves. 
Lye  soap  and  water  had  done  their  merciful  work. 
The  strong  crude  color  of  the  leaves  had  been  sub 
dued  to  a  tint  but  little  deeper  than  the  ground  of 
the  material,  and  while  the  contour  of  the  foliage 
was  retained,  it  was  mottled  into  a  semblance 
of  light  and  shade  here  and  there  where  the  dye 
strove  to  hold  fast.  The  figure  which  it  draped 
was  pliant  and  slender;  the  feet  which  the  fidl 
skirt  permitted  to  be  half  visible  were  small,  and 
arrayed  in  brown  hose  and  the  stout  little  brogans 
which  had  brought  her  so  nimbly  from  Piomingo 
Cove.  Partly  amused,  partly  contemptuous,  partly 
admiring,  the  juggler  remarked  her  hesitation  and 
embarrassment,  and  relished  it  as  of  his  own  in 
spiring. 

"Waal,"  she  drawled  at  last,  "I  don't  rightly 
know."  She  gazed  at  him  doubtfully.  "Air  ye 
\\ant in '  ter  see  him  special?  " 

He  had  a  momentary  terror  lest  she  should  ask 
him  for  his  grist  and  unmask  his  subterfuge.  He 
sought  refuge  in  candor.  "  Well,  I  was  admiring 


THE   JUGGLER.  71 

the  mill.  This  is  a  pretty  spot,  and  I  wished  to 
ask  the  miller's  name." 

There  was  a  flash  of  laughter  in  her  eyes,  al 
though  her  lips  were  grave.  "  His  name  be  Tubal 
Sims;  an'  ef  he  don't  prop  up  his  old  mill  some- 
hows,  it  '11  careen  down  on  him  some  day."  She 
added,  with  asperity,  "I  dunno  what  ye  be  admir- 
in'  it  fur,  'thout  it  air  ter  view  what  a  s'prisin' 
pitch  laziness  kin  kem  ter." 

"That's  what  I  admire.  I  'in  a  proficient,  a 
professor  of  the  science  of  laziness." 

She  lifted  her  long  black  lashes  only  a  little  as 
she  gazed  at  him  with  half -lowered  lids.  "Ye 
won't  find  no  pupils  in  that  science  hyar  about. 
The  Cove's  done  graduated."  She  smiled  slightly, 
as  if  to  herself.  The  imagery  of  her  response, 
drawn  from  her  slender  experience  at  the  school- 
house,  pleased  her  for  the  moment,  but  she  had  no 
disposition  toward  further  conversational  triumphs. 
There  ensued  a  short  silence,  and  then  she  looked 
at  him  in  obvious  surprise  that  he  did  not  take 
himself  off.  It  would  seem  that  he  had  got  what 
he  had  come  for,  —  the  miller's  name  and  the 
opportunity  to  admire  the  mill.  He  experienced 
in  his  turn  a  momentary  embarrassment.  He  was 
so  conscious  of  the  superiority  of  his  social  status, 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  general  attainments 
that  her  apparent  lack  of  comprehension  of  his 
condescension  in  lingering  to  admire  also  the 
miller's  daughter  was  subversive  in  some  sort  of 
his  wonted  aplomb.  It  rallied  promptly,  however, 


72  THE  JUGGLER. 

and  he  went  on  with  a  certain  half -veiled  mocking 
courtesy,  of  which  the  satire  of  the  sentiment  was 
only  vaguely  felt  through  the  impervious  words. 

"I  presume  you  are  the  miller's  daughter?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  silent  acquiescence. 

"Then  I  am  happy  to  make  an  acquaintance 
which  kind  fortune  has  been  holding  in  store  for 
me,  for  my  stay  in  the  Cove  is  at  the  miller's  hos 
pitable  home."  He  concluded  with  a  smiling 
flourish.  But  her  bewitching  eyes  gazed  seriously 
at  him. 

"  What  be  yer  name?  "  she  demanded  succinctly. 

"  Leonard,  —  John  Leonard,  —  very  much  at 
your  service,"  he  replied,  with  an  air  half  banter, 
half  propitiation. 

"Ye  be  the  juggler  that  mam  's  been  talkin1 
'bout,"  she  said  as  if  to  herself,  completing  his 
identification.  "I  drawed  the  idee  from  what 
mam  said  ez  ye  war  a  old  pusson  —  at  least  corn- 
sider'ble  on  in  years." 

"And  so  I  am!  "  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  change 
of  tone.  "  If  life  is  measured  by  what  we  feel  and 
what  we  suffer,  I  am  old,"  —  he  paused  with  a 
sense  of  self -betrayal,  — "some  four  or  five  hun 
dred  at  least,"  he  added,  relapsing  into  his  wonted 
light  tone. 

She  shook  her  head  sagely.  "'Pears-like  ter 
me  ez  it  mought  be  medjured  by  the  sense  folks 
gather  ez  they  go.  I  hev  knowed  some  mighty 
young  fools  at  sixty." 

The  color  showed  in  his  face;  her  unconscious 


THE   JUGGLER.  73 

intimation  of  his  youth  according  to  this  method 
of  estimate  touched  his  vanity,  even  evoked  a 
slight  resentment. 

"You  are  an  ancient  dame,  on  that  theory!  I 
bow  to  your  wisdom,  madam,  —  quite  the  soberest 
party  I  have  seen  since  I  entered  the  paradisaical 
seclusion  of  Etowah  Cove." 

She  appreciated  the  belligerent  note  in  his  voice, 
although  she  scarcely  apprehended  the  casus  belli. 
There  was,  however,  a  responsive  flash  in  her  eye, 
which  showed  she  was  game  in  any  quarrel.  No 
tender  solicitude  animated  her  lest  unintentionally 
she  had  wounded  the  feelings  of  this  pilgrim  and 
stranger.  He  had  taken  the  liberty  to  be  of 
fended  when  no  offense  was  intended,  and  per 
haps  with  the  laudable  desire  to  give  him,  as  it 
were,  something  to  cry  for,  she  struck  back  as  best 
she  might. 

"Not  so  sober  ez  some  o'  them  folks  ye  gin  yer 
show  afore,  over  yander  at  the  Notch.  I  hearn 
they  war  fit  ter  weep  an'  pray  arterward.  Mam 
'lowed  ye  made  'em  sober  fur  sure." 

He  was  genuinely  nettled  at  this  thrust.  His 
feats  of  jugglery  had  resulted  so  contrary  to  his 
expectations,  had  roused  so  serious  a  danger,  that 
he  did  not  even  in  his  own  thoughts  willingly  re 
vert  to  them.  He  turned  away  on  one  heel  of  the 
pointed  russet  shoes  that  had  impressed  the  deni 
zens  of  Etowah  Cove  hardly  less  unpleasantly  than 
a  cloven  hoof,  and  looked  casually  down  the  long 
darkly  lustrous  vista  of  the  river;  for  the  mill 


74  THE  JUGGLER. 

so  projected  over  the  water  that  the  point  of  view 
was  as  if  it  were  anchored  in  midstream.  The 
green  boughs  leaned  far  over  the  smooth  shadowy 
current;  here  and  there,  where  a  half -submerged 
rock  lifted  its  jagged  summit  above  the  surface, 
the  water  foamed  preternaturally  white  in  the 
sylvan  glooms.  He  had  a  cursory  impression 
of  many  features  calculated  to  give  pleasure  to  the 
eye,  were  his  mind  at  ease  to  enjoy  such  trifles, 
and  his  sense  alert  to  mark  them :  the  moss  on  the 
logs,  and  the  lichen:  the  tangle  of  the  trumpet- 
vines,  all  the  budding  tendrils  blowing  with  the 
breeze,  that  clambered  over  the  rickety  structure, 
and  hung  down  from  the  apex  of  the  high  roof, 
and  swayed  above  the  portal;  even  the  swift 
motion  of  a  black  snake  swimming  sinuously  in 
the  clear  water,  and  visible  through  the  braiding 
of  the  currents  as  through  corrugated  glass. 

"No,"  he  said,  his  teeth  set  together,  his  eyes 
still  far  down  the  stream,  "I  did  my  little  best, 
but  my  entertainment  was  not  a  success;  and  if 
that  fact  makes  you  merry,  I  wish  you  joy  of  your 
mirth." 

His  eyes  returned  to  her  expectantly;  he  was 
not  altogether  unused  to  sounding  the  cultivated 
feminine  heart,  trained  to  sensibility  and  suscepti 
ble  to  many  a  specious  sophistry.  Naught  he  had 
found  more  efficacious  than  an  appeal  for  sympa 
thy  to  those  who  have  sympathy  in  bulk  and  on 
call.  The  attribution,  also,  of  a  motive  trenching 
on  cruelty,  and  unauthorized  by  fact,  was  usually 


THE  JUGGLER.  75 

wont  to  occasion  a  flutter  of  protest  and  contri 
tion. 

Euphemia  Sims  met  his  gaze  in  calm  silence. 
She  had  intended  no  mirth  at  his  expense,  and  if 
he  were  minded  to  evolve  it  gratuitously  he  was 
welcome  to  his  illusion.  Aught  that  she  had  said 
had  been  to  return  or  parry  a  blow.  She  spoke 
advisedly.  There  was  no  feigning  of  gentleness 
in  her,  no  faltering  nor  turning  back.  She  stood 
stanchly  ready  to  abide  by  her  words.  She  had 
known  no  assumption  of  that  pretty  superficial 
feminine  tendresse,  so  graceful  a  garb  of  identity, 
and  she  could  not  conceive  of  him  as  an  object  of 
pity  because  her  sarcasm  had  cut  deeper  than  his 
own.  He  had  an  impression  that  he  had  indeed 
reached  primitive  conditions.  The  encounter  with 
an  absolute  candor  shocked  his  mental  preposses 
sions  as  a  sudden  dash  of  cold  water  might  startle 
the  nerves. 

He  was  all  at  once  very  tired  of  the  mill,  ex 
tremely  tired  of  his  companion.  The  very  weight 
of  the  fishing-rod  and  its  unbaited  hook  was  a 
burden.  He  was  making  haste  to  take  himself  off 

—  he  hardly  knew  where  —  from  one  weariness  of 
spirit  to  another.     Despite  the  lesson  he  had  had, 
that  he  would  receive  of  her  exactly  the  measure 
of  consideration  that  he  meted  out,  he  could  not 
refrain  from  a  half -mocking  intimation  as  he  said, 
"  And  do  you  propose  to  take  up  your  abode  down 
here,  that  you  linger  so  long  in  this  watery  place, 

—  a  nymph,  a  naiad,  or  a  grace?"     He  glanced 
slightingly  down  the  dusky  bosky  vista. 


76  THE  JUGGLER. 

She  was  not  even  discomfited  by  his  manner. 
"I  kem  down  hyar,"  she  remarked,  the  interest 
of  her  errand  paramount  for  the  moment,  "  I  kem 
down  ter  the  mill  ter  see  ef  I  could  n't  find  some 
seconds.  They  make  a  sort  o'  change  arter  eatin' 
white  flour  awhile." 

He  was  not  culinary  in  his  tastes,  and  he  had 
no  idea  what  "seconds"  might  be,  unless  indeed 
he  encountered  them  in  their  transmogrified  estate 
as  rolls  on  the  table. 

"Ami  having  found  them,  may  I  crave  the  plea 
sure  of  escorting  you  up  the  hill  to  the  paternal 
domicile?  I  observe  the  shadows  are  growing  very 
long." 

"You-uns  may  kerry  the  bag,"  she  replied,  with 
composure,  "an'  I  '11  kerry  the  fishin'-pole." 

Thus  it  was  he  unexpectedly  found  himself  plod 
ding  along  the  romantic  road  he  had  so  lately  tra 
versed,  with  a  bag  of  "seconds"  on  his  shoulder, 
—  "a  veritable  beast  of  burden,"  he  said  sarcasti 
cally  to  himself,  —  while  Euphemia  Sims's  light, 
airy  figure  loitered  along  the  perfumed  ways  in 
advance  of  him,  her  cloudy  curls  waving  slightly 
with  the  motion  and  the  breeze;  the  fishing-rod 
was  over  her  shoulder,  and  on  the  end  of  it  where 
the  unbaited  hook  was  wound  with  the  line  her 
green  sunbonnet  was  perched,  flouncing  like  some 
great  struggling  thing  that  the  angler  had  caught. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him,  so  impressed  was  he 
with  the  grotesque  office  to  which  he  had  descended 
and  the  absurd  result  of  the  interview,  that  her 


THE  JUGGLER.  77 

errand  to  the  mill  must  have  anticipated  some  bur 
lier  strength  than  her  own  to  carry  the  "seconds" 
home,  until  as  they  turned  an  abrupt  curve  where 
the  high  rocks  rose  on  either  side  they  met  a  man 
with  an  axe  in  his  hand  walking  rapidly  toward 
them.  He  paused  abruptly  at  the  sight  of  them, 
and  the  juggler  laughed  aloud  in  scornful  derision 
of  his  burden. 

Then  recognizing  Ormsby  he  cried  out  cheerily, 
"Hello,  friend,  whither  bound?"  So  acute  had 
his  sensibilities  become  that  he  had  a  sense  of 
recoil  from  the  surly  mutinous  stare  with  which 
his  friendly  young  acquaintance  of  the  previous 
evening  received  his  greeting.  Ormsby  mumbled 
something  about  a  fish-trap  and  passed  on  swiftly 
toward  the  river.  Swift  as  he  was  it  was  obvi 
ously  impossible  that  he  could  even  have  gained 
the  margin  and  returned  without  a  pause  when 
he  passed  again,  walking  with  a  long  rapid  stride, 
swinging  his  axe  doggedly,  his  hat  pulled  down 
over  his  brow,  his  eyes  downcast,  and  with  not  even 
a  flimsy  affectation  of  an  exchange  of  civilities. 

"Now,  the  powers  forbid,"  thought  the  juggler, 
"that  I  shall  run  into  any  such  hornet's  nest  as 
interfering  with  this  Corydon  and  Phyllis.  Surely 
sufficient  vials  of  wrath  have  been  poured  out  on 
my  head  without  uncorking  this  peculiar  and 
deadly  essence  of  jealousy  which  all  three  of  us 
cannot  hope  to  survive." 

He  looked  anxiously  up  from  his  bent  posture, 
carrying  the  bag  well  up  on  his  shoulders,  at  the 


78  THE  JUGGLER. 

quickly  disappearing  figure  of  the  young  moun 
taineer.  He  did  not  doubt  that  Onnsby  knew 
that  Eupheuiia's  domestic  errands  would  probably 
bring  her  to  the  mill  at  this  hour,  and  the  bearing 
home  of  the  bag  of  "seconds"  was  his  precious 
devoir  most  ruthlessly  usurped.  "  I  only  wish,  my 
friend,"  thought  the  juggler,  "that  you  had  the 
heavy  thing  now  with  all  its  tender  associations." 
He  glanced  with  some  solicitude  at  the  delicate 
lovely  face  of  the  girl.  It  was  placidity  itself.  He 
had  begun  to  be  able  to  read  it.  There  was  an 
implication  of  exactions  in  its  soft  firmness.  She 
would  make  no  concessions.  She  would  assume  no 
blame  not  justly  and  fairly  to  be  laid  at  her  door. 
She  would  not  rend  her  heart  with  those  tender  lies 
of  false  self-accusation  common  to  loving  women 
who  find  it  less  bitter  to  censure  themselves  than 
those  they  love,  and  sometimes  indeed  more  politic. 
She  would  not  bewail  herself  that  she  had  not  lin 
gered,  that  Onnsby,  who  came  daily  to  examine 
his  fish-traps,  might  have  had  the  opportunity  of  a 
long  talk  with  her  which  he  coveted,  and  the  pre 
cious  privilege  of  going  home  like  a  mule  with  a 
flour-bag  on  his  back.  It  was  his  own  fault  that 
he  was  too  late.  She  could  not  heft  the  bag.  If 
he  were  angry  he  was  a  fool.  On  every  principle 
it  is  a  bad  thing  to  be  a  fool.  If  God  Almighty 
has  not  seen  fit  to  make  a  man  a  fool,  it  is  an  ill 
turn  for  a  man  to  make  one  of  himself. 

As  the  juggler  divined  her  mental  processes  and 
the  possible  indifference  of  her  sentiments  toward 


THE  JUGGLER.  79 

the  disappointed  Ormsby,  he  realized  that  naught 
was  to  be  hoped  from  her,  but  that  probably 
Ormsby  himself  might  be  less  obdurate.  Doubt 
less  he  had  had  experience  of  the  stern  and  un 
yielding  quality  of  her  convictions,  and  had  learned 
that  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  accommodate 
himself  to  them.  Surely  he  would  not  indulge  so 
futile  an  anger,  for  it  would  not  move  her.  After 
an  interval  of  solitary  sulking  in  the  dank  cool 
woods  his  resentment  would  wane,  his  jealousy 
would  prompt  a  more  zealous  rivalry,  and  he  would 
come  to  her  father's  house  as  the  evening  wore  on 
with  an  incidental  expression  of  countenance  and 
a  lamblike  manner.  The  juggler  made  haste  be 
cause  of  this  sanguine  expectation  to  leave  the  field 
clear  for  the  reconciliation  of  the  parties  in  inter 
est.  He  deprecated  the  loss  of  one  of  the  very 
few  friends,  among  the  many  enemies,  he  had 
made  since  his  advent  into  Etowah  Cove.  The 
frank,  bold,  kindly  young  mountaineer  had,  in  the 
absence  of  all  other  prepossessions,  somewhat  won 
the  good  opinion  of  the  juggler.  With  that  attrac 
tion  which  mere  youth  has  for  youth,  he  valued 
Ormsby  above  the  other  denizens  of  the  Cove. 
Jane  Ann  Sims  was  possessed  of  more  sterling 
worth  as  a  friend  than  a  battalion  of  such  as 
Ormsby.  But  the  juggler  was  a  man  of  preju 
dices.  Mrs.  Sims's  unwieldy  bulk  offended  his 
artistic  views  of  proportion.  The  slow  shuffle  of 
her  big  feet  on  the  floor  as  she  went  about  irri 
tated  his  nerves.  The  creases  and  dimples  of  her 


80  THE  JUGGLER. 

broad  countenance  obscured  for  him  its  expression 
of  native  astuteness  and  genuine  good  will.  There 
fore,  despite  her  appreciation  of  the  true  intent  of 
the  feats  of  a  prestidigitator  he  was  impatient  of 
her  presence  and  undervalued  her  hearty  prepos 
sessions  in  his  favor.  He  heard  with  secret  annoy 
ance  her  voice  vaguely  wheezing  a  hymn,  much  off 
the  key,  as  after  supper  she  sat  knitting  a  shape 
less  elephantine  stocking  beside  the  dying  embers, 
for  the  night  was  chilly.  Her  husband  now  and 
again  yawned  loudly  over  his  pipe,  as  much  from 
perplexity  as  fatigue.  Outside  Euphemia  was 
sitting  alone  on  the  step  of  the  passage.  The  jug 
gler  had  no  inclination  to  linger  by  her  side.  Ex 
cept  for  a  lively  appreciation  of  the  difference  in 
personal  appearance  she  was  not  more  attractive  to 
him  than  was  her  mother.  He  passed  stiffly  by, 
with  a  sense  of  getting  out  of  harm's  way,  and  as 
cended  to  his  room  in  the  roof,  where  for  a  long 
time  he  lay  in  the  floundering  instabilities  of  the 
feather-bed,  which  gave  him  now  and  again  a  sen 
sation  as  of  drowning  in  soft  impalpable  depths,  — 
a  sensation  especially  revolting  to  his  nerves. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  but  vaguely  that  he  realized 
that  Ormsby  did  not  come,  that  he  heard  the  move 
ments  downstairs  as  the  doors  were  closed,  and 
when  he  opened  his  eyes  again  it  was  morning, 
and  the  new  day  marked  a  change. 

If  anything  were  needed  to  further  his  alienation 
from  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  house,  it  might 
have  been  furnished  by  her  own  voice,  the  first 


THE  JUGGLER.  81 

sounds  of  which  that  reached  his  ears  were  loud 
and  somewhat  unfilial. 

"It 's  a  plumb  sin  not  ter  milk  a  cow  reg'lar  ter 
the  minit  every  day,"  she  averred  dictatorially. 

"Show  me  the  chapter  an'  verse  fur  that,  ef  it 's 
a  sin;  ye  air  book-1'arned,"  wheezed  her  mother, 
on  the  defensive. 

"I  ain't  lookin'  in  the  Bible  fur  cow-1'arnin'," 
retorted  Euphemia.  "There  's  nuthin'  in  the 
Bible  ter  make  a  fool  of  saint  or  sinner." 

"Thar  's  mo'  cows  spoke  of  in  the  Bible  'n  ever 
you  see,"  persisted  Mrs.  Sims,  glad  of  the  diver 
sion.  "Jacob  hed  thousands  o'  cattle,  an'  Aber- 
ham  thousands,  an'  Laban  thousands,  not  ter 
count  Joseph's  ten  lean  kine  an'  ten  fat  kine, 
what  I  reckon  war  never  viewed  out'n  a  dream, 
an'  mought  be  accounted  visions." 

"Waal,  I  ain't  ez  well  pervided  with  cattle  ez 
them  folks,  neither  sleepin'  nor  wakin',"  said  Eu 
phemia.  "I  'lowed  ye 'd  milk  pore  Spot  reg'lar 
like  I  does,  else  I  wouldn't  hev  gone  away." 

"I  slep'  till  nigh  supper-time,"  apologized  Mrs. 
Sims  unctuously,  pricked  in  conscience  at  last, 
"else  I'd  hev  done  it.  Want  me  ter  go  walkin' 
in  my  sleep,  an'  milk  the  cow?" 

Euphemia  said  no  more,  but  there  rose  an  ener 
getic  clashing  of  pans  and  kettles,  intimating  that 
the  explanation  had  not  mitigated  the  enormity  of 
the  offense.  It  was  with  a  distinct  sentiment  of 
apprehension  that  the  juggler  made  himself  ready 
and  descended  the  stairs.  The  place  was  evidently 


82  THE  JUGGLER. 

under  martial  law.  The  slipshod,  easy-going  lib 
erty  which  had  characterized  it  was  a  thing  of  the 
past.  He  might  hardly  have  recognized  it,  so 
different  was  the  atmosphere,  but  for  the  fixtures. 
The  perfumed  air  swept  through  and  through  the 
rooms  that  he  had  found  so  close,  from  open  win 
dow  to  open  door.  The  floors  had  been  scrubbed 
white,  and  were  still  but  half  dry.  The  breakfast- 
table  was  set  in  the  passage,  and  the  graceful  vines 
which  grew  over  the  aperture  at  the  rear  showed 
the  morning  sunshine  only  in  tiny  interstices,  as 
they  waved  back  and  forth  with  a  fluctuating  glim 
mer  and  an  undertone  of  rustlings  and  murmurs; 
through  the  drooping  boughs  of  the  elm  at  the 
opposite  entrance  might  be  caught  glimpses  of  the 
silver  river  and  the  gray  rocks  and  the  purple 
mountains  afar  off. 

Here  he  found  Euphemia  and  her  parents.  The 
irate  flush  was  still  red  on  the  young  girl's  cheeks, 
and  her  eyes  were  bright  with  the  stern  elation  of 
victory.  But  if  submission  entailed  on  Mrs.  Sims 
no  effort,  she  was  not  averse  to  subjugation.  The 
juggler  was  pleased  for  once  to  perceive  no  dimi 
nution  in  the  number  and  depth  of  her  dimples  as 
she  welcomed  him. 

"Ye '11  hev  ter  put  up  with  Phemie's  cookin', 
now.  I  don't  b'lieve  in  no  old  'oman  cookin' 
whenst  she  hev  got  a  spry  young  darter  ter  do  it 
fur  her.  I  reckon  ye  '11  manage  ter  make  out. 
She  does  toler'ble  well  fur  her,  bein'  inexperienced 
an'  sech;  but  I  can't  sense  it  into  the  gal  how  ter 


THE  JUGGLER.  83 

git  some  sure  enough  strong  rich  taste  on  ter  the 
vittles." 

Old  Sims's  grizzled,  stubbly,  unshaven  counte 
nance  expressed  a  rigid  neutrality,  as  if  he  in 
tended  to  abide  by  this  impartiality  or  perish  in 
the  attempt.  His  art  had  sufficed  to  keep  him  out 
of  the  engagement  this  morning,  and  his  success 
had  confirmed  his  resolution. 

It  seemed  afterward  to  the  juggler  that  this 
meal  saved  his  life.  He  ate  as  if  he  had  not  tasted 
food  for  a  week.  He  partook  of  mountain  trout 
broiled  on  the  coals,  and  of  "that  most  delicate 
cate "  constructed  of  Indian  meal  and  called  the 
corn  dodger.  The  potatoes  were  roasted  in  the 
ashes  with  their  jackets  on,  and  crumbled  to  pow 
der  at  the  touch  of  a  fork.  He  drank  cream  in 
stead  of  buttermilk,  —  it  had  been  too  much  trou 
ble  for  Mrs.  Sims  to  skim  the  big  pans  when  she 
could  tilt  the  churn  instead;  and  there  was  a  kind 
of  dry,  crisp,  crusty  roll  compounded  of  the  sec 
onds  that  he  had  brought  to  the  house  on  his  shoul 
der  yesterday,  and  which  was  eaten  with  honey 
and  the  honeycomb.  He  watched  the  river  shim 
mer  between  the  green  willows  of  the  banks.  He 
noted  the  white  mists  rise  on  the  purple  mountain 
sides,  glitter  prismatically  in  the  sun,  tenuously 
dissolve  in  fleecy  fragments,  and  vanish  in  mid-air. 
The  faint  tinkle  of  a  sheep-bell  sounded,  —  pas 
toral,  peaceful ;  he  heard  a  thrush  singing  with  so 
fresh,  so  matutinal  a  delight  in  its  tones. 

"If  this  is  the  line  of  march,"  he  said  to  him- 


84  THE  JUGGLER. 

self,  as  he  maintained  a  decorous  silence,  for  the 
state  of  the  temper  of  the  family  was  too  precari 
ous  to  admit  of  conversation,  "I  don't  care  how 
soon  I  fall  into  ranks." 

It  is  supposed  by  those  who  affect  to  know  that 
the  seat  of  the  intellectual  faculties  is  the  cere 
brum  situated  in  the  brain-pan.  Still,  science 
cannot  deny  that  the  stomach  is  a  singularly  intel 
ligent  organ.  Through  its  processes  alone  the  jug 
gler  perceived  how  well  subjection  becomes  parents, 
especially  a  female  parent  addicted  to  the  use  of 
the  frying-pan;  realized  Euphemia's  strength  of 
character,  unusual  in  so  young  a  person,  and  con 
ceived  a  deep  respect  for  her  mental  and  industrial 
capacities.  He  appreciated  an  incongruity  in  hi> 
bantering  style  and  his  mocking  high -sounding 
phrases.  His  manner  toward  her  became  char 
acterized  by  a  studious  although  apparently  inci 
dental  courtesy,  which  was,  however,  compatible 
with  a  certain  cautious  avoidance. 

These  days  passed  eventlessly  to  him.  Much  of 
the  time  he  strolled  listlessly  about,  so  evidently 
immersed  in  some  absorbing  mental  perturbation 
that  Tul ml  Sims  marveled  that  its  indicia  should 
not  attract  the  attention  of  the  womenfolk,  who 
esteemed  themselves  so  keen  of  discernment  in 
such  matters.  He  still  affected  to  angle  at  times, 
but  his  hook  was  hardly  less  efficient  when  it  dan 
gled  bare  and  farcical  in  the  deep  dark  pool  than 
when  the  forlorn  minnow  it  pierced  stirred  an 
eddy  in  the  shadowy  depths.  He  did  not  seem 


THE  JUGGLER.  85 

annoyed  by  his  non-success.  Mrs.  Sims's  banter 
scarcely  grated  on  his  nerves  or  touched  his  pride. 
But  indeed  Mrs.  Sims  herself  did  not  think  ill  of 
the  unachieving;  somehow  the  aggressive  capabil 
ity  of  Euphemia  made  her  lenient.  If  there  were 
more  people  like  Euphemia,  Mrs.  Sims  might 
have  felt  in  conscience  bound  to  move  on  herself. 
As  to  the  daughter,  her  little  world  hastily  con 
formed  itself  to  its  dictator,  and  she  ruled  it  with 
an  absolute  sway.  Triumphs  of  baking  or  butter- 
making  ministered  amply  to  her  pride.  Even  the 
dumb  creatures  seemed  ambitious  to  meet  her  ex 
pectations  and  avoid  her  censure.  The  dogs,  who 
had  sat  so  thick  around  the  hearthstone  in  her 
absence  as  to  edge  away  the  human  household,  and 
had  so  independently  tracked  mud  over  the  floors, 
now  never  ventured  nearer  than  the  threshold ;  yet 
there  was  much  complimentary  wagging  of  tails 
when  she,  appeared  on  the  porch.  Sometimes  the 
clatter  of  the  treadle  and  the  thumping  of  the  bat 
ten  told  that  the  great  loom  in  the  shed-room  was 
astir.  Sometimes  the  spinning-wheel  whirred. 
Occasionally  she  was  busily  carding  cotton,  and 
again  she  was  hackling  flax. 

One  afternoon  he  found  her  differently  employed. 
She  sat  near  the  window  and  caught  the  waning 
light  upon  the  newspaper  which  she  held  with  both 
arms  half  outstretched  as  she  read  aloud.  Mrs. 
Sims  glanced  up  at  the  young  man  with  a  radiance 
of  maternal  pride  that  duplicated  every  crease  and 
every  dimple.  Even  Tubal  Sims,  who,  as  the 


86  THE  JUGGLER. 

juggler  had  fancied  of  late,  was  wont  to  look  at 
his  guest  askance,  lifted  his  eyes  now  with  a  smile 
distending  his  gruff,  lined  countenance,  as  he  sat 
with  his  arms  folded  in  his  shirt-sleeves  across 
his  breast,  his  chair  tilted  back  on  its  hind  legs 
against  the  frame  of  the  opposite  window,  his  gaze 
reverting  immediately  to  the  young  elocutionist. 
With  a  good-natu  ivil  impulse  to  minister  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  old  couple,  the  juggler  silently 
took  a  chair  hard  by,  and  suppressed  his  rising 
sense  of  ridicule. 

For,  alack,  Euphemia's  accomplishments  were 
indeed  of  manual  achievement.  He  listened  with 
surprise  that  this  should  be  the  extent  of  her 
vaunted  book-learning,  knowing  naught  of  how 
scanty  were  her  opportunities,  and  what  labor  this 
poor  proficiency  had  cost.  Subjugation  is  possible 
only  to  superior  force.  In  the  instant  his  former 
attitude  of  mind  toward  her  had  returned,  on  this 
pitiful  exhibition  of  incapacity  which  she  herself 
and  her  prideful  parents  were  totally  incompetent 
to  realize.  She  droned  on  in  a  painful  singsong, 
now  floundering  heavily  among  unaccustomed 
words,  now  spelling  aloud  one  more  difficult  than 
the  others,  while  he  had  much  ado  to  keep  the  con 
temptuous  laugh  from  his  face,  aware  that  now 
and  again  his  countenance  was  anxiously  yet  tri 
umphantly  perused  by  the  delighted  old  people,  to 
lose  no  token  of  his  appreciation  and  wonder. 

To  bear  this  scrutiny  more  successfully  he  sought 
to  occupy  his  thoughts  in  other  matters.  His 


THE   JUGGLER.  87 

practiced  eye  noted  even  at  the  distance  that  the 
newspaper  must  be  some  county  sheet,  —  published 
perhaps  in  the  town  of  Colbury.  He  congratu 
lated  himself  that  the  girl  had  evidently  exhausted 
the  columns  of  local  news,  and  was  now  deep  in 
the  contents  of  what  is  known  as  the  "patent  out 
side."  Otherwise  his  polite  martyrdom  might 
have  been  of  greater  duration.  He  felt  that  nei 
ther  her  interest  nor  that  of  her  audience  would 
long  sustain  her  in  the  wider  range  of  subjects  and 
the  more  varied  and  unaccustomed  vocabulary  of 
the  articles,  copied  from  many  sources,  which  made 
up  this  portion  of  the  journal. 

The  next  moment  he  could  have  torn  it  from  her 
hands.  His  heart  gave  a  great  bound  and  seemed 
to  stand  still.  His  eyes  were  fixed  and  shining. 
He  half  rose  from  his  chair;  then  by  an  absolute 
effort  resumed  his  seat  and  resolutely  held  himself 
still.  In  the  throe  of  an  inexpressible  suspense 
every  fibre  of  his  being  was  stretched  to  its  ex- 
tremest  tension  as,  slowly,  laboriously,  pausing 
often,  the  drawling  voice  read  on  anent  "Young 
Lucien  Royce.  Details  of  his  Terrible  Death." 
For  so  the  head-lines  ran. 


IV. 

THE  account  which  the  newspaper  made  shift  to 
give  was  but  a  bald,  disjointed  recital  of  the  super 
ficial  aspect  of  events  to  one  whose  memory  could 
so  nearly  reproduce  the  vivid  fact;  and  where 
memory  and  experience  failed  him,  his  imagina 
tion,  conversant  with  the  status  depicted,  could 
paint  the  scene  with  all  the  tints  of  actuality.  A 
recent  steamboat  accident  on  the  great  Mississippi 
River  had  resulted  in  much  loss  of  life.  The  words, 
as  Eupheniia  droned  them,  still  holding  the  news 
paper  with  both  arms  outstretched,  brought  back 
to  one  of  her  listeners  the  sensation  of  forging 
tremulously  along  in  midstream  at  nightfall,  the 
shimmer  of  the  shaking  chandeliers  of  the  great 
flimsy  floating  palace,  the  white  interior  of  the 
ladies1  cabin,  with  the  "china  finish"  of  the 
painted  and  paneled  walls,  its  velvet  carpet  and 
furniture,  its  grand  piano.  He  heard  anew  the 
throb  of  the  engines,  and  the  rush  of  water  from 
the  great  revolving  wheels;  he  had  the  sense,  too, 
of  the  immensity  of  the  vast  river,  gleaming  with 
twinkling  points  of  light  close  at  hand,  where  the 
waves  caught  the  glitter  from  the  illuminated 
craft,  and  tossed  it  from  one  to  another  as  the 
surges  of  the  displaced  water  broke  about  the  hull ; 


THE  JUGGLER.  89 

further  away  could  be  seen  the  swift  current  hur 
rying  on,  a  different  dusky  tint  from  the  darkness ; 
and  still  further,  where  the  limits  of  vision  were 
reached,  one  had  even  yet  some  subtle  realization 
of  that  unceasing  irresistible  flow,  although  unseen 
and  unheard.  He  remembered  leaning  over  the 
guards  and  idly  watching  a  number  of  mules  on 
the  deck  below,  crowded  so  thickly  that  they 
seemed  only  a  dark  restlessly  stirring  mass,  until 
at  some  landing,  when  they  were  excited  by  the 
clamors  of  the  roustabouts  loading  on  more  cotton, 
the  pallid  glare  of  the  electric  light  rendered  dis 
tinguishable  the  tossing  snorting  heads  and  wild 
dilated  eyes.  An  ill-starred  cargo!  The  frantic 
struggles  of  this  animated  mass  caused  much  loss 
of  human  life ;  many  a  bold  swimmer  might  have 
gained  the  land  but  for  the  uncontrolled  plunging 
of  those  heavy  hoofs.  And  there  was  no  lack  of 
light  to  reveal  the  full  horrors  of  the  fate :  those 
huge  piles  of  bales  of  blazing  cotton  illumined  the 
river  for  twenty  miles.  How  unprescient,  how 
strangely  stolid,  the  human  organism,  the  phleg 
matic  mind,  the  insensate  soul,  that  no  nerve,  no 
faint  tremor  of  fear  or  forecast,  no  vague  presenti 
ment,  heralded  the  moment  when  every  condition 
of  life  was  reversed ! 

Up  in  the  pilot-house  he  was  now,  with  the  cap 
tain  and  the  pilot  and  the  great  shadowy  wheel. 
The  ladies  had  all  vanished,  leaving  the  cabin  be 
low  deserted  and  a  trifle  forlorn.  Once  he  had 
taken  his  way  through  those  sacred  precincts, 


90  THE  JUGGLER. 

affecting  to  be  searching  for  some  one ;  and  so  he 
was,  —  to  discover  if  any  one  there  was  worth 
looking  at  twice :  and  this  he  esteemed  a  justifiable 
if  not  a  laudable  enterprise,  for  were  the  ladies 
not  welcome  to  look  at  him?  His  trim  business 
suit  he  felt  was  quite  the  correct  thing.  He  had 
entire  confidence  in  his  tailor,  and  he  swore  by 
his  barber!  His  proper  thankfulness  to  his  Crea 
tor,  too,  was  not  impaired  by  any  morbid  self- 
depreciation.  With  his  strong,  alert,  handsome 
figure,  his  dark  red-brown  hair,  his  eyes  of  the 
same  tint,  only  kindled  into  fire,  his  long  dark 
lashes,  his  drooping  mustache,  and  the  features 
with  which  nature  had  taken  some  very  particular 
pains,  —  the  ladies  were  quite  welcome  not  to  turn 
their  heads  away,  if  they  chose. 

However,  his  vanity  was  not  insatiable.  !!«• 
had  made  his  triumphal  progress  through  the  circle 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and  now  he  was  relishing 
the  captain's  surprised  laughter  at  sundry  feats 
that  he  was  exhibiting  with  a  silver  dollar  and 
a  goblet  which  did  not  always  hold  water.  One 
moment  the  silver  dollar  was  under  it,  glimmer 
ing  affably  through  the  thin  glass;  then,  with 
no  human  approach  to  it,  the  goblet  was  empty. 
It  seemed  the  problem  of  life  to  the  jolly  captain 
to  discover  how  this  was  done,  and  being  an  ambi 
tious  wight,  he  assured  his  passenger,  with  a  wild 
wager  of  ten  dollars  to  nothing,  that,  after  the 
boat  should  leave  the  bank  again,  he  would  be  able 
to  do  the  trick  himself  before  they  could  make 


THE   JUGGLER.  91 

another  landing.     Before  they  made  another  land 
ing  he  was  initiated  into  deeper  mysteries. 

The  boat  was  heading  slowly  .for  the  shore. 
For  the  whistle,  in  loud  husky  amplitudes  of 
sound,  overpowering  when  heard  so  close  at  hand, 
had  broken  abruptly  on  the  air,  and  the  echoes  of 
all  the  wild  moss-draped  cypress  woods  on  either 
hand  were  answering  the  accustomed  sound  through 
the  dark  aisles  of  the  swamp.  To  many  a  far 
cabin  up  lonely  bayous  they  carried  the  note  of 
the  progress  of  "de  big  boat  up  de  ribber."  The 
great  tremulous  craft  was  swinging  majestically 
round  in  midstream.  Now  and  again  sounded  the 
sharp  jangling  of  the  pilot's  bell.  Then  the  boat 
paused  with  a  quivering  shock,  backed,  veered  to 
one  side,  approached  the  shore,  paused  again,  and 
then  smoothly  glided  forward,  trembled  anew,  and 
was  still. 

He  had  gone  out  on  the  hurricane  deck.  The 
wind  blew  fresh  from  the  opposite  shore ;  he  was 
sensible  of  a  certain  attraction  in  the  aspect  of 
the  gloom  which  was  as  above  a  darkling  sea,  for 
the  further  bank  was  hardly  visible  by  day,  and 
utterly  effaced  by  night.  The  stars  were  in  the 
water  as  well  as  in  the  sky.  He  looked  up  at 
them  above  the  two  dusky  columns  of  the  boat's 
chimneys,  which  were  bejeweled  now  with  swing 
ing  lights.  The  sudden  stillness  of  the  machin 
ery  gave  one  to  hear  the  sounds  from  the  land. 
A  crane  clanged  out  a  wild  woodsy  cry  from 
somewhere  in  the  darkness.  An  owl,  hooting 


92  THE  JUGGLER. 

from  the  bank,  sent  its  voice  of  ill  omen  far  along 
the  currents  of  the  great  deep  silent  river.  The 
clamor  from  tfce  landing  caught  his  attention,  and 
he  turned  back  to  look  down  at  the  cluster  of 
twinkling  lights,  —  for  the  place  was  a  mere  ham 
let.  And  but  for  the  shifting  of  his  attitude,  — 
oh,  could  he  but  have  contented  his  gaze  with  the 
sad  spring  night  by  the  riverside,  the  lonely  woods, 
the  waste  of  waters,  the  reflection  of  the  stars  in 
the  depths  and  the  stars  themselves  in  the  infinite 
heights  of  the  dark  sky,  —  could  this  have  sufficed, 
he  said  to  himself  as  the  girl  read  aloud  the  story 
of  his  fate,  he  might  be  living  now. 

For  alive  as  the  man  looked,  he  was  dead ! 

And  the  end  of  Lucien  Royce  —  for  this  was  his 
real  name  —  came  to  pass  in  this  way. 

That  night,  as  he  shifted  his  position  on  the 
hurricane  deck,  a  young  fellow  coming  up  the 
broad  landing-stage  amongst  the  neighborhood 
loafers  bound  to  take  a  drink  at  the  bar  of  every 
passing  steamboat,  caught  sight  of  him  in  the 
steady  pervasive  radiance  of  the  electric  search 
light  now  aflare  on  the  boat,  and  lifted  his  voice 
in  a  friendly  hail.  This  young  fellow  was  very 
visible  in  the  warm  spring  afternoon  in  the  far 
away  mountains,  where  he  had  never  been.  The 
juggler  inadvertently  glanced  down  at  the  russet 
shoes  on  his  feet,  for  this  man  had  then  stood  in 
them.  It  was  he  who  wore,  that  night,  the  long 
blue  hose,  the  blue  flannel  shirt,  the  black-and-red 
blazer,  the  knickerbockers,  and  the  tan-colored 


THE  JUGGLER.  93 

belt,  which  was  drawn  an  eyelet  or  so  tighter  now, 
for  the  juggler  was  slighter  of  build.  Notified  by 
the  whistle  of  the  boat  of  its  approach,  he  had 
come  down  to  the  landing  on  his  bicycle,  merely 
for  the  break  in  the  monotony  of  a  long  visit  at  a 
relative's  plantation.  Royce  remembered  how  this 
other  fellow  had  looked  in  this  toggery,  grown  so 
familiar,  as  they  stood  together  at  the  bar,  and  he 
asked  of  the  newcomer  more  than  once  what  he 
would  take.  Very  jolly  they  were  together  at  the 
bar.  It  was  hard  to  part.  Lucien  Royce  could 
scarcely  resist  the  pressing  insistence  to  return  at 
an  early  day  and  visit  this  friend  at  his  sister's 
place,  a  few  miles  back  from  the  river,  where  he 
himself  was  a  guest.  But  John  Grayson  was  the 
prodigal  son  in  an  otherwise  irreproachable  family, 
and  Royce  preferred  more  responsible  introduction 
to  make,  his  welcome  good.  With  this  hampering 
thought  in  mind  he  was  not  apt  at  excuses.  John 
Grayson,  noting  that  he  was  ill  at  ease,  instantly 
attributed  it  to  commercial  anxiety,  and  asked, 
with  rude  curiosity,  how  his  firm  was  weathering 
the  flurry.  For  this  was  a  time  of  extreme  finan 
cial  stress.  A  general  panic  was  in  progress. 
Assignments  were  announced  by  the  dozen  daily. 
The  banks  were  going  down  one  upon  another, 
like  a  row  of  falling  bricks.  With  business  much 
extended,  with  heavy  margins  to  cover  and  notes 
for  large  amounts  about  to  fall  due,  the  cotton 
commission  firm,  Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife,  of 
St.  Louis,  of  which  his  late  father  had  been  a 


94  THE  JUGGLER. 

partner,  and  of  which  he  was  an  employee,  had 
made  great  efforts  to  collect  all  the  money  due 
them  in  the  lower  country,  and  Lucien  Royce  had 
been  sent  south  on  this  mission.  He  had  suc 
ceeded  beyond  their  expectations.  Owing  to  the 
prevalent  total  hick  of  confidence  in  the  banks, 
he  had  been  instructed  to  transmit  a  considerable 
sum  by  express.  This,  however,  was  promptly  at 
tached  in  the  express  office  at  St.  Louis  to  satisfy 
a  claim  against  the  firm ;  and  although  they  were 
advised  it  could  not  be  sustained  in  court,  the 
proceeding  greatly  embarrassed  them,  being,  in 
fact,  designed  at  this  crisis  to  force  a  compromise 
in  order  to  release  the  surplus  funds.  To  furnish 
security  proved  impossible  under  the  circumstances ; 
and  the  firm  being  thus  balked,  Royce  telegraphed 
in  cipher  to  them  for  authority  to  bring  the  re 
mainder  home  on  his  person,  that  it  might  be  in 
readiness  to  take  up  their  paper.  Although  he 
was  rarely  troubled  by  the  weight  of  the  money- 
belt  which  he  thus  wore,  containing  a  large  sum 
in  bills  and  specie,  he  was  very  conscious  of  it  now 
when  Grayson,  who  with  all  the  rest  of  St.  Louis 
had  heard  of  the  attachment  suit,  abruptly  de 
manded,  with  a  knitting  of  his  brow,  "How  in  the 
world  do  you  get  your  collections  to  them,  if  you 
can't  send  the  money  by  express  or  draft?  " 

Royce  controlled  his  face,  and  replied  evasively, 
"Oh,  the  financial  situation  is  on  the  mend  now. 
As  to  the  firm,  it  will  pull  through  all  right,  with 
out  a  doubt." 


THE  JUGGLER.  95 

John  Grayson  listened,  his  auburn  head  cocked 
to  one  side.  He  winked  a  roguish  dark  eye. 
Then,  with  a  sudden  jocose  lunge  at  his  friend,  he 
slipped  his  arm  around  his  waist,  feeling  there  the 
heavy  roll  of  the  belt,  and  burst  into  rollicking 
laughter.  The  scuffling  demonstration  —  for  Royce 
had  violently  resisted  —  was  eyed  with  stately  dis 
approval  by  an  elderly  planter  of  the  old  regime, 
who  possessed  now  more  manners  than  means;  evi 
dently  contrasting  the  public  "horse-play,"  as  he 
doubtless  considered  it,  of  these  representatives 
of  the  present  day  with  the  superior  deportment  of 
the  youth  of  the  punctilious  past. 

Lucien  Royce  remembered  that  he  had  been 
secretly  perturbed  after  this,  for  he  knew  that 
Grayson  drank  to  excess  and  talked  wildly  in  his 
cups;  and  although,  in  view  of  his  own  safety,  he 
would  hardly  have  cared  to  make  public  the  char 
acter  of  his  charge,  he  realized  with  positive  dis 
may  that  it  might  be  fatal  to  the  interests  of  the 
firm  should  he  encounter  some  legal  process  at  the 
wharf  in  St.  Louis,  the  result  of  this  discovery. 

But  he  was  simple-hearted,  after  all.  He  did 
not  suspect  John  Grayson  of  aught  dishonorable. 
To  the  world  at  large  he  seemed  a  fine  young 
fellow,  of  excellent  forbears,  merely  sowing  his 
wild  oats,  —  a  crop  which  many  men  have  har 
vested  in  early  years  with  scant  profit,  it  is  true, 
but  without  derogation  to  common  honesty  and 
repute. 

Royce  subsequently  sought  to  urge  in  compas- 


96  THE  JUGGLER. 

sion  for  his  friend  that  the  turpitude  of  the  crime 
was  insomuch  the  less  that  it  was  not  deliberate 
and  premeditated.  Certain  it  was  that  Grayson's 
cry  of  amazement  and  his  plunge  toward  the  guards 
were  very  like  the  precipitancy  of  dismay  when  he 
found  that  the  huge  boat  was  sheering  off;  she 
was  turning  as  he  dashed  down  the  stair,  and  was 
headed  once  more  on  her  course  when  he  realized 
that  in  their  conviviality  he  and  his  friend  had 
failed  to  hear  the  sonorous  panting  of  the  engines 
again  astir,  the  jangling  of  the  bell,  the  heavy 
plashing  of  the  buckets  striking  the  water  as  the 
wheels  revolved  anew,  and  that  the  landing  was 
now  a  mile  down  the  river. 

The  captain  showed  much  polite  concern  when 
the  two  young  men  resorted  hastily  to  the  "texas  " 
and  found  him  seated  at  a  table,  eying,  with  an 
air  of  great  cunning  and  a  robust  intention  to  solve 
the  mystery  forthwith,  a  silver  dollar  which  was 
securely  invested  under  an  inverted  glass  goblet, 
and  which,  so  far  as  his  powers  were  capable  of 
extricating  it  thence,  save  by  the  rule  of  thumb, 
as  it  were,  was  the  safest  silver  dollar  ever  known. 

He  desisted  from  this  occupation  for  the  moment 
to  master  the  new  perplexity  that  confronted  him, 
and  to  express  his  most  affable  and  ceremonious 
regret;  for  his  boat  carried  all  the  cotton  shipped 
from  the  rich  sister's  plantation,  and  the  dictates  of 
policy  aided  his  constitutionally  kindly  disposition. 

"Why,  I  wouldn't  have  kidnapped  you  this  way 
for"  —  his  eye  fell  on  the  bit  of  silver  shining 


THE  JUGGLER.  97 

through  the  goblet —  "for  a  dollar,"  he  concluded 
modestly.  "  I  '11  put  you  ashore  in  the  yawl,  if 
you  like.  I  would  turn  down-stream  and  land 
again,  but "  —  he  faced  half  round  from  the  table, 
with  the  lightness  characteristic  of  some  portly 
men,  and  sat  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
chair,  and  the  other  on  the  goblet — "but  the 
truth  is  I  'm  running  pretty  much  on  one  wheel; 
there  was  an  accident  to  the  other  before  we  were 
a  hundred  miles  from  New  Orleans,  and  with  this 
wind  blowing  straight  across  the  river  it 's  mighty 
difficult  getting  out  from  the  left  bank;  she  can 
hardly  climb  against  the  current." 

John  Grayson  appeared  for  a  moment  to  con 
template  the  suggestion  of  going  ashore  in  the 
yawl.  The  wind  came  in  a  great  gust  through  the 
towering  chimneys,  the  lights  flickered,  the  texas 
seemed  to  rock  upon  the  superstructure  of  the  hur 
ricane  deck.  "I  don't  believe  I  care  to  be  on  the 
river  in  a  yawl  in  this  wind,  this  dark  night," 
he  said,  evidently  debating  the  matter  within  him 
self. 

"Then  go  to  St.  Louis  and  back  with  us!"  ex 
claimed  the  hospitable  captain.  "Shan't  cost  you 
a  cent,  of  course.  We  '11  make  our  next  landing 
a  little  after  midnight,  I  reckon,  and  I  '11  telegraph 
Mrs.  Halliday  from  there." 

The  jovial  evening  seemed  to  the  juggler,  as  he 
listened  to  the  girl  reading  aloud,  and  stared  at 
her  with  eyes  blank  of  expression  and  that  intro 
verted  look  which  follows  mental  processes  rather 


98  THE  JUGGLER. 

than  material  objects,  like  an  experience  in  another 
planet,  so  far  away  it  was,  as  if  so  long  ago.  He 
remembered  that  he  scarcely  dared  to  touch  a  glass, 
with  the  consciousness  of  the  treasure  he  carried 
in  the  belt  he  wore  and  all  its  interdependent  in 
terests,  but  John  Grayson  drank  blithely  enough, 
and  the  generous  liquor  relaxed  beyond  all  prece 
dent  his  loosely  hinged  tongue.  Lucien  Royce 
kept  close  by  his  side  as  he  wandered  about  tin- 
boat,  having  developed  a  fear  that  he  would  tell 
the  secret  that  had  come  so  unwarrantably  into  his 
possession;  and  when  the  captain  asked  as  a  favor 
that,  on  account  of  the  crowded  condition  of  the 
boat,  Royce  would  share  his  stateroom  with  the 
guest,  he  acceded  at  once,  preferring  to  have  Gray- 
son  able  to  talk  only  to  him  until  such  time  as  he 
should  be  once  more  duly  sober. 

He  consigned  the  guest  to  the  upper  berth, 
thinking  that  thus  Grayson  could  not  leave  the 
stateroom  without  his  knowledge.  He  lay  awake 
by  a  great  effort  until  he  was  sure  from  the  snores 
of  his  jovial  friend  that  Grayson  was  asleep;  and 
when  he  dropped  into  slumber  himself,  as  he  was 
young  and  tired,  having  been  much  in  the  open 
air  that  day,  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed  in  his 
clerical  vocation,  he  slept  like  a  log. 

His  consciousness  was  renewed,  after  a  blank 
interval,  with  the  sense  of  being  awakened  in  his 
berth  by  a  violent  jar,  and  of  striving  to  rouse 
himself,  and  of  falling  asleep  again.  Another  in 
terval  of  blankness,  and  he  remembered  definitely 


THE  JUGGLER.  99 

the  grasp  of  John  Gray  son's  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
roughly  shaking  him,  with  the  terrified  announce 
ment  that  there  was  something  the  matter.  He 
experienced  a  sort  of  surprise  that  John  Grayson 
was  in  the  stateroom;  then  —  it  was  strange  that 
his  mind  should  have  thus  taken  cognizance  of 
trifles  —  he  recalled  the  crowded  condition  of  the 
boat,  and  realized  that  his  friend  was  leaping 
down  from  the  upper  berth.  He  stated,  with 
drowsy  dignity,  that  he  did  not  care  a  damn  what 
was  the  matter;  that  he  had  paid  for  his  state 
room,  which  was  more  than  some  people  could  say, 
and  that  if  he  were  not  allowed  to  sleep  in  it,  he 
would  give  bond  that  he  would  know  the  reason 
why. 

The  next  thing  of  which  he  was  aware  was  a 
flash  of  light  in  the  room.  The  door  had  opened 
from  the  saloon,  and  a  clerk  had  put  in  his  head 
to  say  that  there  was  no  danger.  The  boat  had 
struck  a  snag,  it  was  true,  but  the  damage  was 
slight.  Somehow  Royce  slept  but  lightly  after 
this.  The  unreasoning  sense  of  impending  misfor 
tune  had  come  to  him  at  last.  Presently  he  was 
awake  and  conscious  that  he  was  alone.  He  lifted 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  listened.  What  was  that 
low  roar?  The  wind?  That  sound  of  banging 
timbers  must  be  the  flapping  of  shutters  or  doors 
as  the  gust  rushed  across  the  river.  He  heard  a 
clamor  on  the  boiler  deck.  Voices?  —  or  was  it 
the  wind,  screaming  wildly  as  it  went?  And  why 
did  they  run  the  engines  at  that  furious  rate  ?  He 


100  THE  JUGGLER. 

could  feel  the  strain  of  the  machinery  in  the  very 
floor  under  his  feet. 

As  he  slipped  out  of  the  lower  berth  he  per 
ceived  that  the  gray  dawn  was  in  the  contracted 
little  room;  he  could  see  through  the  glass  of  the 
door  opening  on  the  guards  the  tawny-tinted 
stretches  of  water,  the  sad-hued  cypress  woods  on 
a  distant  bank,  draped  with  fog  as  well  as  with 
hanging  moss,  and  down  the  stream  the  whiter 
tints  of  an  island  of  sand  covered  with  sparse  vege 
tation,  locally  known  as  a  "tow-head,"  for  which 
the  disabled  boat  was  running  with  every  pound 
of  pressure  which  the  engines  could  carry.  There 
was,  in  truth,  something  the  matter,  for  the  tow- 
head  would  have  been  given  a  wide  berth  in  a  nor 
mal  state  of  affairs;  getting  aground,  when  the 
lesser  of  two  evils,  showed  a  crisis  indeed. 

He  looked  about  hastily  for  his  clothes.  They 
were  gone,  and  in  their  place  John  Grayson's  tog 
gery  lay  in  a  heap.  In  his  panic  and  the  darkness 
Grayson  had  probably  caught  the  garments  nearest 
to  his  hand.  His  deserted  friend  hastily  invested 
himself  in  the  suit  of  clothes  that  John  Grayson 
had  left.  As  he  was  drawing  on  the  blazer,  sud 
denly  a  hoarse  cry  smote  his  ear.  "No  bottom!  " 
sang  out  the  leadsman.  They  were  taking  sound 
ings.  "No-o  bottom!"  And  he  felt  the  vibra 
tions  of  the  tone  in  the  very  fibres  of  his  quaking 
heart. 

He  plunged  out  at  the  door  on  the  guards,  and 
as  he  stood  there  gasping  for  a  moment  he  realized 


THE  JUGGLER.  101 

the  situation.  The  boat  was  sinking  fast;  evi 
dently  in  striking  a  snag  the  craft  had  sprung  a 
leak.  He  saw  on  the  deck  the  frightened  passen 
gers  huddled  together  in  groups,  here  and  there 
a  man  anxiously  fastening  life-preservers  on  the 
women  and  children  of  his  kindred.  Again  the 
leadsman's  cry,  "No-o  bottom!"  floated  mourn 
fully  over  the  water,  and  the  frantic  panting  of 
the  engines  seemed  redoubled.  He  saw  the  cap 
tain,  cool  and  collected,  at  his  post ;  the  other  offi 
cers  appeared  now  and  again  among  the  groups 
of  passengers,  soothing,  reassuring,  and  doubtless 
their  lies  were  condoned  for  the  mercy  of  the  in 
tention.  As  he  passed  on  amongst  them  all,  no 
where  did  he  catch  a  glimpse  of  John  Grayson. 
"If  I  didn't  know  the  fellow  wouldn't  play  such 
a  fool  trick  at  such  a  time,  I  'd  think  he  was  dodg 
ing  me,"  he  muttered.  The  next  moment  he  had 
forgotten  him  utterly. 

"Deep  four!  "  called  the  leadsman. 

As  Royce  listened  he  stood  still,  holding  his 
breath  in  suspense. 

"Mark  three!"  called  the  leadsman,  sounding 
again. 

Royce  heard  the  plunging  of  his  heart  as  dis 
tinctly  as  the  echoes  of  the  cry  clanging  from  the 
shore.  But  suddenly  they  were  blended  with  a 
new  refrain,  —  "A  quarter  twain!  " 

He  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and  checked  it 
midway  to  listen  anew. 

"Mark  twain!"  called  the  leadsman,  with  a 
new  intonation. 


102  THE  JUGGLER. 

There  was  no  longer  doubt,  —  they  were  in  shal 
low  water.  A  great  exclamation  of  delight  rose; 
from  the  crowd.  The  very  hope  was  like  a  rescue, 
—  the  relief  from  the  blank  despair!  Here  and 
there  the  hysterical  sobbings  of  the  women  told  of 
the  slackening  of  the  tension  of  suspense. 

"Quarter  less  twain!"  cried  the  leadsman, 
sounding  anew. 

The  juggler  remembered  how  free  he  had  felt, 
how  safe.  The  boat,  even  if  her  engines  could  not 
run  her  aground,  would  soon  settle  in  shallow 
water,  and  rescue  would  come  with  some  passing 
steamer. 

A  blinding  glare,  a  thunderous  detonation  that 
seemed  to  shatter  his  every  nerve,  and  he  was  wel 
tering  in  the  river ;  now  sinking  down  with  a  sense 
of  the  weight  of  infinite  fathoms  of  water  upon 
him,  and  now  mechanically  trying  to  strike  out 
with  an  unreasoning  instinct  like  an  animal's. 
When  he  could  understand  what  had  happened  he 
was  swimming  fairly  well,  although  greatly  ham 
pered  by  the  clinging  blazer  that  John  Grayson 
had  left  on  the  floor,  and  which  he  now  wore. 
The  long  reaches  of  the  river,  the  shore,  the  dim 
dawn,  were  all  lighted  with  a  lurid  glare;  for  the 
boat  had  taken  fire  with  the  explosion  of  the  over 
strained  boiler.  The  roar  of  the  flames  mingled 
with  the  heart-rending  screams  of  those  whom 
hope  had  so  cruelly  deluded.  But  the  sounds  were 
all  faint  at  the  distance,  and  he  never  could  under 
stand  how  he  had  been  thrown,  unhurt,  so  far 


THE  JUGGLER.  103 

away.  He  saw  none  of  the  human  victims  of  the 
disaster.  Now  and  again  charred  timbers,  shoot 
ing  by  on  the  current,  threatened  him,  and  to  avoid 
them  necessitated  some  skillful  management.  A 
far  greater  danger  was  the  proximity  of  two 
horses,  also  gallantly  swimming,  who  followed  him 
with  loud  whinnies  of  inquiry  and  distress,  appeal 
ing  in  their  way  for  aid  and  guidance,  leaning  on 
the  humankind  as  if  recognizing  his  superior  ca 
pacity.  More  than  once,  one  of  them,  a  spirited 
mare,  intended'  for  new  triumphs  at  the  Louisville 
races,  swam  close  in  front  of  him,  pausing,  as  if 
to  say,  "Mount,  and  let  us  gallop  off  on  dry 
ground;"  deflecting  his  course,  which  was  already 
beset  with  abnormal  difficulties.  For  when  almost 
exhausted,  he  saw  that  the  land  he  was  approach 
ing,  half  veiled  with  the  gray  fog,  was  a  bluff 
bank,  thirty  feet  high  at  least,  and  as  far  as  eye 
could  reach  up  and  down  the  river  there  was  no 
lower  ground.  To  scale  it  was  impossible.  His 
heart  sank  within  him.  He  felt  that  his  stroke 
was  the  feebler  when  hope  no  longer  nerved  it.  In 
his  despair  he  could  hardly  make  another  effort. 
And  although  he  had  feared  the  horses,  with  their 
lashing  hoofs  and  their  unearthly  cries,  when  the 
mare  —  the  more  importunate  in  dumb  insistence 
that  he  would  succor  them  —  threw  up  her  head, 
and  with  a  wild  inarticulate  scream  went  struggling 
down  into  the  depths  to  rise  no  more,  he  felt  a 
choking  sob  in  his  throat,  his  eyes  were  blurred, 
he  could  scarcely  keep  his  head  above  the  surface. 


104  THE  JUGGLER. 

If  he  were  further  conscious,  the  faculty  was  not 
coupled  with  that  of  memory,  for  he  never  knew 
how  he  came  to  be  in  a  flatboat  floating  swiftly 
down  the  stream  from  the  scene  of  the  disaster, 
and  he  never  saw  his  other  comrade  again.  Once 
more  there  came  an  interval  void  of  perception; 
then  he  was  vaguely  aware  that  the  flatboat  was 
tied  up  in  the  bight  of  a  bend ;  the  shadowy  cy 
presses  towered  above  it,  —  he  heard  their  wav 
ing  boughs, — the  water  hipped  gently  about  it; 
then  blankness  again,  and  he  never  knew  how 
long  this  continued. 

One  morning  he  awoke,  restored  to  his  senses, 
in  a  bunk  against  the  wall ;  he  felt  the  motion  of 
the  river,  and  he  knew  that  the  flimsy  craft  with 
the  rickety  little  cabin  in  its  centre  was  again 
afloat  upon  the  stream.  Every  pulse  of  the  cur 
rent  set  his  own  pulses  a-quiver.  The  very  prox 
imity  of  the  fearful  river  induced  a  physical  terror 
that  his  mind  could  not  control.  It  was  only  by 
a  mighty  wrench  that  his  thoughts  could  l>e  forced 
from  the  subject,  and  fixed  as  an  alternative  on 
his  surroundings.  The  interior  of  the  cabin  con 
sisted  of  two  apartments :  one  for  bunks  and  cook 
ing  purposes;  the  other,  apparently,  from  the 
glimpse  through  a  door,  fitted  up  as  a  store,  with 
small  wares,  such  as  threads  and  perfumery,  soaps 
and  canned  goods,  and  showy  imitation  jewelry 
calculated  to  take  the  eye  and  the  earnings  of  the 
negroes  at  the  various  landings  where  the  craft, 
locally  called  the  "trading-boat,"  tied  up.  Through 


THE  JUGGLER.  105 

a  further  door  he  had  an  outlook  upon  the  deck. 
An  elderly  woman  with  rough  red  arms  was  sitting 
there  on  a  stool,  peeling  potatoes;  a  half -grown 
boy,  cross-legged  on  the  floor,  tailor-wise,  was 
sawing  away  on  an  old  riddle.  Beyond  still  was 
the  vast  spread  of  the  tawny-tinted  rippling  floods 
and  the  sad  hues  of  the  nearer  shore.  Lucien 
Royce  recoiled  at  the  very  sight  and  turned  away 
his  eyes.  Within,  much  of  the  wearing  apparel 
of  the  proprietors  dangled  from  the  rafters.  There 
were  bunks  on  the  opposite  wall,  imperfectly  visi 
ble  through  the  smoke  from  the  tiny  stove,  which, 
despite  a  great  crackling  of  driftwood,  seemed  to 
labor  with  an  imperfect  draft.  Two  men  were 
seated  close  to  it,  and  were  talking  with  that  secu 
rity  which  presumes  no  alien  ear  to  listen.  A  cer 
tain  crime  of  robbery  absorbed  their  interest,  and 
Royce  gathered  that,  fearing  they  might  be  impli 
cated  in  it,  they  had  silently  fled  from  the  locality 
before  their  presence  was  well  recognized.  They 
had  evidently  had  naught  to  do  with  it.  They 
only  wished  they  had ! 

A  great  swag  it  was,  to  be  sure.  The  man  had 
worn  a  money -belt,  —  a  rare  thing  in  these  times. 
Heavy  it  must  have  been  and  drawn  tight,  for 
both  hands  had  stiffened  on  its  fastenings  as  if 
striving  to  tear  it  off.  Its  weight  had  doubtless 
drowned  him.  It  was  no  joke  to  swim  the  Missis 
sippi  at  high  water,  completely  dressed  and  with 
a  tight  belt  stuffed  with  money  —  gold  or  silver  ? 
And  how  much  could  the  sum  have  been  ?  When- 


106  THE  JUGGLER. 

ever  this  point  was  broached,  a  glitter  of  greed 
was  in  the  eyes  of  each  which  made  the  grizzled- 
bearded  faces  alike  despite  the  variations  of  con 
tour  and  feature.  Always  a  long  pause  of  silent 
speculation  ensued,  and  whenever  the  suppositi 
tious  sum  total  was  mentioned,  it  had  augmented 
in  the  interval.  No  one  knew  where  the  man 
went  down;  the  body  —  the  face  beaten  and 
bruised  by  floating  timbers  out  of  all  semblance  to 
humanity  —  had  been  swept  upon  a  sand-bar. 
There  some  pirates  of  the  river-bank  had  found  it, 
had  cut  the  belt  open,  had  taken  the  money  and 
fled,  leaving  the  empty  belt  to  tell  its  own  futile 
story.  At  this  point  the  flatboatmen  would  pause, 
and  once  more  gloomily  shake  their  heads  and  spit 
tobacco  juice  on  the  tiny  stove,  till  it  was  as  vocal 
as  a  frying-pan,  and  obviously  wish  that  the  chance 
had  been  theirs. 

Thus  it  was  that  Lucien  Royce  had  been  ap 
prised  of  John  Grayson's  death  and  of  the  loss 
of  the  funds  with  which  he  himself  had  been  en 
trusted.  Until  this  moment  he  had  never  missed 
the  belt.  Doubtless  Grayson  took  it  from  him 
at  the  first  alarm  of  striking  the  snag  before  the 
dawn,  when  he  vainly  sought  to  rouse  his  friend 
to  a  sense  of  danger.  Was  it  possible,  he  mar 
veled,  that  Grayson,  leaving  him  to  drown,  as  he 
supposed,  had  thought  that  the  good  money  need 
not  be  wasted?  Had  its  custodian  been  rescued, 
however,  probably  Grayson  would  have  restored 
it ;  otherwise  suspicion  would  have  fallen  upon  him, 


THE  JUGGLER.  107 

since  they  had  occupied  the  same  stateroom.  But 
if  not,  if  Lucien  Royce's  body  had  gone  to  the 
bottom  of  the  river,  and  no  one  the  wiser  that 
the  money-belt  did  not  go  with  it,  —  was  it  upon 
this  chance,  in  that  supreme  moment  of  terror, 
that  Grayson  had  had  the  forethought  to  act? 
He  was  not  a  man  who  made  much  account  of 
the  rights  of  others  when  his  own  comfort  or 
his  own  pleasure  was  at  stake.  But  his  life  — 
did  he  risk  the  precious  moment  that  might  mean 
existence  to  save  a  sum  of  money  for  a  St.  Louis 
cotton  commission  firm  of  which  he  did  not  know 
a  single  member?  Would  he  have  jeopardized 
his  chances  in  the  water  with  this  weight,  with 
this  fatally  close -gripping  python  of  a  belt,  for  a 
mere  commercial  matter  ?  It  was  needless  to  argue 
the  question.  Royce  knew  right  well,  both  then 
and  now,  that  in  no  event,  had  he  not  survived, 
did  Grayson  intend  to  restore  the  money.  Evi 
dently  the  idea  had  flashed  upon  him  when,  in 
seeking  to  rouse  his  companion,  his  hands  came  in 
contact  with  the  belt  and  the  opportunity  was  his 
own.  And  so  Grayson  had  gone  to  his  death, 
drowned  by  the  weight  and  the  pressure  of  the 
stolen  money.  It  seemed  a  grim  sort  of  justice 
that  with  the  last  movements  of  his  hands  in  life, 
the  last  effort  of  his  will,  he  sought  to  tear  it  off, 
to  cast  it  from  him,  as  he  went  down  into  the  hope 
less  depths. 

Royce  experienced  hardly  a  regret  for  his  false 
friend,  —  not  more  than  a  physical  pang  of  sym- 


108  THE  JUGGLER. 

pathy,  an  involuntary  shudder,  his  very  nerves  in 
stinct  with  the  terror  of  the  water.  Had  Grayson 
not  tampered  with  a  secret  that  was  not  his  own, 
the  belt  would  now  be  safe.  Royce  himself  had 
had  the  strength  to  sustain  its  weight  in  the  water. 
He  was  used  to  it,  and  its  size  had  l>een  carefully 
adjusted  to  his  slender  figure.  Now  the  money  was 
gone,  —  the  belt  was  found  on  another  man.  They 
would  seem  to  have  been  confederates  in  the  rob 
bery  of  the  fund.  He  was  responsible  for  it.  He 
could  not  reasonably  account  for  its  being  out  of 
his  own  possession  without  incriminating  himself. 
Should  he  seek  to  inculpate  the  dead  man  alone, 
he  was  aware  that  the  fact  that  Grayson  could  not 
speak  for  himself  would  speak  for  him.  Nothing 
could  palliate  the  circumstance  that  the  belt  was 
found  on  another  man  than  its  proper  custodian, 
and  that  the  leather  had  been  slit  and  the  money 
extracted.  He  would  have  to  account  for  this,  and 
improbable  excuses  would  not  go  far  with  men 
smarting  under  a  ruinous  loss  from  the  careless 
ness  or  the  drunkenness  or  the  cupidity  of  their 
employee.  He  could  not  go  back.  He  could 
never  face  the  firm ! 

So  light  of  heart  he  had  always  been,  so  light 
of  heel,  so  light,  so  very  light  of  head,  that  the 
anguish  which  pierced  him  at  the  idea  of  the  loss 
of  public  esteem,  of  his  commercial  honor,  of  the 
confidence  of  the  firm,  involved  in  his  seeming 
failure  of  probity,  subacutely  amazed  him  at  its 
keen  poignancy.  He  had  hardly  known  how  he 


THE  JUGGLER.  109 

valued  these  spiritual,  immaterial  assets.  More 
than  life,  —  far,  far  more  than  life !  He  began  to 
contemn  the  struggle  he  had  made  in  the  water; 
he  had  been  wondering  and  calculating,  with  an 
early  gleam  of  consciousness  and  an  athlete's  stal 
wart  vanity,  how  far  he  had  swum,  how  long  he 
had  sustained  himself  in  the  great  flood ;  for  what 
purpose,  he  thought  now,  what  melancholy  pur 
pose,  to  save  his  life  for  the  ignominy  of  an  epi 
sode  behind  the  bars  for  breach  of  trust,  embezzle 
ment,  robbery  —  he  hardly  cared  what  might  be 
the  technical  rank  of  the  crime  of  which  he  would 
so  certainly  be  accused.  Every  reflection  brought 
confirmations  of  the  popular  suspicion  which  would 
be  so  false,  and  which  could  not,  alas,  be  disproved. 
With  a  mechanical  review,  as  of  a  life  when  it  is 
closed,  sundry  gambling  escapades  of  John  Gray- 
son's  recurred  to  his  mind,  in  which  he  had  been 
nearly  concerned  and  which  had  attained  a  certain 
degree  of  notoriety.  On  one  occasion,  indeed, 
when  he  was  younger  and  more  easily  led  by  his 
friend,  a  gambling  establishment  had  been  raided 
by  the  police,  the  two  had  been  among  the  captured 
players,  and  being  arraigned,  although  under  false 
names,  were  nevertheless  recognized.  The  exploit 
was  so  well  bruited  abroad  that  the  senior  member 
of  the  firm,  who  had  been  a  friend  as  well  as  a 
partner  of  his  father's,  had  given  him  what  the 
old  gentleman  was  pleased  to  term  a  "remon 
strance,"  and  what  he  himself  denominated  a 
"blistering."  "Mark  my  words,"  had  been  its 


110  THE  JUGGLER. 

conclusion,  "that  fellow  Grayson  will  ruin  you." 
Was  it  possible  that  this  prophet  of  evil  would 
fail  to  note  the  fulfillment  of  the  prognostication  ? 
Would  this  event  give  no  color  to  the  supposition 
that  he  had  been  gambling  with  the  money,  that 
Grayson  had  won  it,  and  then  was  drowned  and 
robbed  ? 

Oh,  why,  why  had  he  so  straggled  to  save  his 
wretched  life  ?  The  terrors  of  the  water  no  longer 
shook  his  nerves.  As  he  noted  the  trembling  of 
the  little  craft,  —  the  flimsiest  thing,  he  thought, 
that  he  had  ever  seen  afloat,  — he  said  to  hini><  It' 
that  it  would  be  the  luckiest  chance  that  had  ever 
befallen  him  should  the  flatboat  suddenly  disinte 
grate,  timber  from  timber,  on  the  swelling  centre 
of  the  tide,  engulfing  him  never  to  rise  again.  "I 
would  not  move  a  hand  to  save  my  life.  I  wish  I 
were  dead,"  he  said,  his  white  face  turned  to  the 
wall.  "I  wish  I  were  dead."  And  then  he  real 
ized  that  he  had  his  wish.  He  was  dead. 

For  the  flatboatmen  were  talking  again,  with  a 
morbid  revolving  around  the  subject.  From  their 
disjointed  dialogue  it  appeared  that  the  "stiff" 
was  not  on  the  sand-bar  now ;  it  had  been  removed 
in  obedience  to  a  telegram  from  a  firm  in  St.  Louis, 
—  Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife,  cotton  commission 
merchants.  One  of  their  clerks  had  come  down 
by  train  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  "nigh  tore 
up"  about  the  belt  and  the  loss  of  the  money. 
He  recognized  the  dead  man  by  his  clothes,  and 
the  color  of  his  hair  and  eyes,  —  "there  was  no 


THE  JUGGLER.  Ill 

other  way  to  know  him,  he  was  such  a  s'prisin' 
bruised-up  sight."  This  clerk  had  once  given  the 
man  a  meerschaum  pipe  that  was  in  the  breast 
pocket  yet,  and  some  papers  were  dried  off,  and 
read  and  identified.  He  was  shipped  by  train. 
They  would  bury  him  where  he  came  from.  The 
firm  and  its  employees  would  turn  out,  probably, 
and  do  the  handsome  thing.  "Good  for  trade,  I 
reckon,"  remarked  the  proprietor  of  the  flatboat 
store,  with  an  appreciation  of  sentiment  as  an 
agent  of  profit. 

"What's  the  man's  name?"  demanded  the 
other. 

"He  never  left  no  name  as  I  heard.  He  loafed 
round  Kyarter's  sto'  over  thar  in  the  bend  awhile, 
an'  a  nigger  rowed  him  over  in  a  dug-out  to  see 
the  stiff,  an'  he  give  his  orders  an'  put  out  fur  the 
up-country  quick." 

"I  ain't  talkin'  'bout  him.  I  mean  the  stiff. 
What  was  the  stiff's  name?" 

"Oh,  Eoyce.  Lucien  Royce,  —  that 's  the  stiff's 
name.  Lucien  Leonard  Royce." 

And  thus  it  was  that  the  juggler  realized  that 
he  was  dead. 

He  made  haste  to  leave  the  trading-boat  as  soon 
as  he  could  stand,  however  unsteadily,  on  his  feet. 
And  the  boatmen  were  not  ill  pleased  to  see  him 
go.  The  humane  search  for  all  survivors  of  the 
wreck  and  the  rescue  of  the  bodies  had  been  in 
progress  for  some  days,  but  with  a  vague  terror  of 
implication  in  crime  which  must  indeed  be  appall- 


112  THE  JUGGLER. 

ing  to  the  poor,  who  believe  that  justice  is  meted 
out  according  to  the  price  the  victim  can  pay  for 
it,  the  flatboatmen  were  drifting  night  and  day 
further  and  further  away  from  the  dreaded  local 
ity.  When  they  had  chanced  to  meet  the  skiffs 
sent  out  by  the  search-parties  for  victims  of  the 
disaster,  they  had  said  naught  of  the  man  whom 
they  had  rescued,  who  lay  between  life  and  death 
in  the  bunk.  They  had  even  relinquished  the  op 
portunity  of  "scrapping"  about  the  waters  for 
floating  articles,  of  scant  value  in  themselves, 
hardly  worth  the  gathering  of  them  together  by 
the  owners,  but  precious  indeed  to  those  of  so  re 
stricted  opportunities,  —  tins  of  edibles,  cutlery, 
bedding,  cooking  utensils,  bits  of  furniture,  table 
ware,  garments,  and  the  like.  Once  a  stranger 
had  boarded  the  craft,  but  he  came  no  further 
than  the  door  of  the  store,  where  he  was  furnished 
with  a  flask  of  whiskey  needed  for  a  half -drowned 
man  lying  hard  by  on  a  sand-bar.  So  when  their 
guest  was  at  last  on  his  feet  again  they  bade  him 
farewell  with  a  right  good  will,  and  the  trifle  of 
change  that  was  in  the  pocket  of  poor  John  Gray- 
son's  knickerbockers  was  a  superfluity  to  their 
satisfaction. 

They  set  Royce  ashore  one  night  at  a  point 
which  they  stated  was  half  a  mile  from  the  rail 
road;  it  seemed  a  league  or  more  through  the 
dense  oak  forests,  clear  of  undergrowth,  level  as 
a  park,  before  he  sighted  a  red  lantern  and  an 
empty  box  car  on  a  siding  near  a  great  tank. 


THE  JUGGLER.  113 

There  was  apparently  not  another  soul  in  the 
world,  so  unutterably  lonely  was  the  spot.  He 
clambered  into  the  car,  knowing  that  he  could  not 
well  play  the  role  of  tramp  on  any  discerning 
train-man  while  wearing  Grayson's  expensive  rus 
set  shoes,  albeit  somewhat  the  worse  for  water, 
and  his  natty  knickerbockers  and  blazer.  He 
would  invent  some  story  and  beg  a  ride.  He 
lay  down  behind  a  pile  of  bagging,  and  when  he 
awoke  he  saw  that  the  car  was  moving  rapidly, 
that  it  was  half  full  of  freight,  that  an  afternoon 
sun  was  streaming  in  dusty  bars  through  the 
chinks  in  the  door,  that  he  must  have  traversed 
many  a  mile  of  the  inland  country  from  the  scene 
of  the  disaster;  so  many  miles  that,  the  next 
morning,  when  the  car  was  opened  in  the  yard  of 
the  freight  depot  of  a  small  town,  the  whole  land 
scape  was  as  strange  to  him  as  if  he  had  entered 
a  new  world.  Great  purple  mountains,  wooded 
to  their  crests,  encircled  the  horizon,  itself  seem 
ing  lifted  to  a  great  height,  in  contrast  with  the 
low-lying  skies  of  the  swamp  country;  and  now 
and  again,  where  the  summit-lines  were  broken 
by  gaps,  further  visions  of  enchanted  heights  in 
ethereal  tints  of  blue  and  alluring  sun-flooded 
slopes  met  his  gaze.  There  was  a  river,  too,  nar 
row,  smoothly  flowing,  but  cliff-bound,  crystal- 
clear  in  a  rocky  channel  that  curved  between  the 
mountains  it  reflected.  The  sunshine  was  so  daz 
zling  that  he  made  scant  shift  to  see  the  men,  who, 
in  moving  the  freight,  discovered  him.  The  first 


114  THE  JUGGLER. 

demonstration  of  the  yardmaster  was  wrathful 
bluster  because  of  the  impudent  device  of  the  sup 
posed  tramp  and  his  success  in  stealing  a  ride. 
But  as  Lucien  Royce  rose  to  his  feet,  and  his  cos 
tume  that  of  a  young  gentleman  of  bucolic  proclivi 
ties  taking  his  ease  and  dispensing  with  ceremony, 
became  visible,  he  was  received  with  banter  and 
laughter.  He  was  presumed  to  be  engaged  in 
some  kind  of  adolescent  escapade,  —  stealing  a 
ride  for  a  wager,  perhaps;  and  as,  with  his  quick 
intelligence,  he  perceived  this  fact,  he  answered 
in  the  same  vein.  He  leaped  out  of  the  car,  made 
his  way  from  the  yard  and  up  the  main  street  of 
the  town,  and  when,  reaching  its  opposite  extrem 
ity,  he  was  out  in  the  country,  he  walked  as  if  for 
his  life.  All  day  long  he  trudged  at  the  top  of 
his  speed.  Pedestrianism  had  been  one  of  his 
many  fads,  and  he  wished  more  than  once  for  his 
pedometer,  that  he  might  have  his  score  to  boast 
of  and  break  the  record  of  the  pedestrian  club 
of  which  he  was  an  active  member;  and  then  he 
would  check  himself  suddenly,  remembering  that 
it  was  decreed  that  he  should  never  see  his  old 
comrades  again.  He  was  dead !  His  safety  imper 
atively  required  that  he  should  remain  dead. 

Apparently  he  left  the  sunshine  behind  him; 
the  wind  flagged  and  fell  back;  only  certain  clouds 
maintained  an  equal  pace,  congregating  about  the 
summits  of  the  mountains,  showing  tier  on  tier 
above  them,  so  darkly  purple  that  sometimes  he 
could  hardly  tell  which  was  shadowy  earth  and 


THE  JUGGLER.  115 

which  over-shadowing  sky.  Always,  as  he  clam 
bered  over  the  flank  of  some  great  ridge  and 
looked  upon  the  deep  dells  of  the  valley,  these 
clouds  were  already  crossing  it,  and  rising,  peak 
on  peak  and  towering  height  over  height,  above 
the  crest  of  the  mountains  still  beyond.  In  one 
of  these  sequestered  nooks  among  the  vast  ranges, 
when  the  swift  lightnings  were  unleashed  and  the 
thunder  reverberated  from  dome  to  dome  and  the 
weighty  rain  fell  in  tumultuous  torrents,  he  dragged 
his  stumbling  feet  to  a  lighted  window  dimly  flick 
ering  in  the  gloom,  and  found  the  latch-string  of 
Tubal  Cain  Sims's  door  on  the  outside,  as  the  hos 
pitable  mistress  of  the  cabin  said  it  always  should 
be,  when  she  welcomed  the  wayfarer. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  within  a  fortnight 
after  the  disaster  the  juggler  sat  listening  to  the 
miller's  daughter  as  she  read  the  account  of  the 
terrible  death  of  young  Lucien  Royce.  He  could 
have  given  the  journalist  many  points  on  the  de 
tails  of  the  accident.  But  his  mind  ceased  its 
retrospection,  and  he  hearkened  with  keen  interest, 
for  one  so  very  dead,  to  the  narrative  of  the  sup 
plemental  events  occurring  in  the  city  of  his  home. 
As  Euphemia  droned  drearily  on,  he  gathered  that 
the  firm  had  made  an  assignment,  the  result  of  the 
loss  of  the  funds  of  which  Lucien  Royce  had  been 
robbed,  and  their  consequent  inability  to  take  up 
their  paper.  The  amount  was  stated  at  thrice  the 
reality,  and  his  lips  curved  with  a  scornful  won 
der  as  to  whether  this  was  a  commercial  device 


116  THE  JUGGLER. 

to  render  the  failure  more  seemly  and  respectable, 
or  was  merely  due  to  the  magnifying  proclivities 
natural  to  the  race  of  reporters.  "It  lets  the 
house  down  easier, — that's  one  good  thing,"  he 
reflected.  And  then  he  checked  himself,  marvel 
ing  if  other  people  who  were  dead  could  not  imme 
diately  dissever  their  interests  and  affections  from 
those  subjects  and  associations  that  had  once  en 
thralled  them.  "It  must  take  a  long  time  to  get 
thoroughly  acclimated  to  another  world,"  he 
thought,  realizing  that  the  impulse  of  satisfaction 
which  he  had  experienced  because  the  "break" 
had  its  justification  in  the  eyes  of  the  commercial 
world  was  the  loyal  sentiment  to  the  firm  shan  d 
by  every  man  on  their  pay-roll.  "We  could  have 
weathered  the  flurry  easily  enough  but  for  this," 
he  knew  the  various  employees  were  all  severally 
saying  to  their  personal  friends  and  such  of  the 
general  public  as  came  within  their  opportunity. 
It  seems  that  cynicism  is  not  a  growth  exclusively 
native  to  this  sphere,  for  he  presently  found  him 
self  attributing  to  a  wish  to  fix  general  attention 
on  this  subject  of  the  loss  of  the  money  the  firm's 
elaborate  attention  to  the  details  of  the  obsequies 
of  their  unfortunate  employee.  But  they  would 
not  overdo  it,  he  realized  even  before  Euphemia, 
hobbling  painfully  among  words  whose  existence 
had  hitherto  been  undreamed  of  by  her,  and 
whose  structure  would  serve  to  render  them  ob 
solete  forever  in  her  vocabulary  after  this  single 
usage,  had  reached  the  description  of  the  funeral 


THE  JUGGLER.  117 

arrangements.  He  had  feared  she  would  flag,  and 
would  thus  balk  his  palpitating  curiosity ;  but  the 
mournful  pageantry  of  death  has  its  fascination 
for  certain  temperaments,  and  it  is  fair  to  say  she 
would  not  have  read  so  long,  nor  would  Tubal 
Sims  and  his  wife  have  waking  listened,  had  the 
theme  been  more  cheerful. 

No,  the  firm  would  not  overdo  it.  They  were 
men  of  good  taste  and  acumen.  The  public  re 
ceived  sundry  reminders  that  Lucien  Royce's  de 
ceased  father  had  been  a  member  of  the  firm  for 
many  years,  and  much  of  the  quondam  prosperity 
had  been  due  to  his  sagacity  and  sterling  quali 
ties.  The  young  man's  inherited  interest  in  the 
business  was  of  course  swamped  with  the  rest. 
And  all  this  made  the  presence  of  each  of  the 
partners  and  of  all  the  employees,  together  with 

large  and  showy  floral  tributes  at  St.  Church, 

the  more  appropriate  and  natural.  As  no  simple 
interment  could  have  done,  however,  it  had  also 
riveted  attention  on  that  especial  feature,  the  loss 
of  the  money,  which  was  in  itself  calculated  to 
excite  much  sympathy  and  commiseration  in  the 
commercial  heart,  and  to  be  of  service  in  securing 
a  composition  with  creditors  and  the  possibility  of 
continuance. 

"They  need  n't  have  been  so  mighty  particular," 
he  said  to  himself  a  moment  afterward,  his  eyes 
bright  and  shining,  the  color  in  his  cheeks.  "I 
could  have  gotten  up  a  big  enough  blow-out  all  by 
myself." 


118  THE  JUGGLER. 

For  that  meed  of  popularity  which  many  better 
men  never  achieve  had  been  a  gratuitous  gift  to 
Lucien  Royce,  who  had  never  done  aught  to  secure 
it  or  given  it  a  thought  in  his  life.  His  gay  young 
friends  were  bereaved.  All  experiencing  a  sense 
of  personal  loss,  all  struck  aghast  with  dismay  and 
pity,  those  attended  in  a  body  who  were  of  his 
many  clubs  and  societies,  and  others  singly  if  they 
happened  to  be  merely  friends  outside  the  bonds 
of  fraternities.  The  church  was  densely  thronged ; 
a  wealth  of  flowers  filled  the  chancel.  The  words 
of  a  popular  hymn  were  sung  by  a  member  of  the 
Echo  Quartet,  a  singer  of  local  renown,  to  an  air 
composed  by  the  late  Lucien  Royce,  —  so  pathetic, 
with  such  sudden  minor  transitions,  such  dying 
falls  (it  had  been  a  love-song,  and  he  had  written 
the  words  as  well  as  the  music),  that  the  congrega 
tion  were  in  tears  as  they  listened. 

"Ah  ha,  my  fine  first  tenor!"  the  juggler  said 
to  himself  in  prideful  triumph  at  the  praise  of 
print.  "  And  how  about  that  final  phrase  of  each 
refrain  that  you  persisted  ought  to  resolve  itself 
into  the  major,  and  not  the  minor  chord?  Oh, 
oh!  Mightily  pleased  to  stand  up  before  a  big 
crowd  and  sing  it  now,  for  all  its  faulty  harmony ! " 

But  if  he  had  already  been  gratified,  he  was 
shortly  delighted.  The  account  digressed  to  the 
personal  qualities  of  the  deceased,  his  exceptional 
popularity,  the  high  esteem  in  which  he  was  held 
by  his  business  associates,  the  great  affection  which 
his  personal  friends  entertained  for  him,  the  ex- 


THE  JUGGLER.  119 

traordinary  versatility  of  his  talents.  He  was  a 
wonderful  athlete  for  an  amateur.  (The  juggler 
listened  with  a  critical  jealous  ear  to  the  detail  of 
certain  feats  of  lifting,  walking,  and  swimming. 
"I  can  break  that  record  now,"  he  muttered.)  He 
was  a  very  acceptable  amateur  actor.  He  sang 
delightfully,  and  composed  charming  songs  with 
words  of  considerable  merit;  in  fact,  he  had  a  gift 
of  light,  easy  versification.  He  was  hospitable 
and  joyous,  and  fond  of  entertaining  his  friends, 
to  whom  he  was  much  attached,  —  the  more  as  he 
was  so  alone  in  the  world,  having  no  near  kindred 
since  the  death  of  his  father.  There  was  no  bitter 
ness  in  his  mirth ;  he  laughed  with  you  rather  than 
at  you.  ("Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  the 
juggler,  in  his  sleeve.)  He  was  wonderfully  quick 
in  learning,  even  quick  in  acquiring  any  mechani 
cal  art  that  struck  his  attention.  He  had  really 
become  a  skillful  prestidigitator  (how  the  juggler 
blessed  the  six-pronged  unpronounceable  word  as 
Euphemia  struggled  to  take  hold  of  it,  and  finally 
left  it  as  incomprehensible!):  and  this  came  about 
partly  through  his  extraordinary  quickness,  and 
partly  because  no  one  could  resist  his  fascinating 
bonhomie,  and  many  a  traveling  artist  in  legerde 
main  had  imparted  his  professional  secrets  to  him 
from  sheer  good  will  and  liking.  He  was  the 
same  to  all  classes;  he  had  an  easy  capacity  for 
adapting  himself  to  the  company  he  was  in  for 
the  time  being,  as  if  it  were  his  choice.  Many  a 
pleasant  haunt  of  his  friends  would  lack  its  relish 


120  THE  JUGGLER. 

after  this,  and  it  would  be  long  before  the  name 
or  face  of  Lucien  Royce  would  be  forgotten  in  St. 
Louis  city. 

"Well,"  mused  the  juggler,  with  a  sigh,  as  the 
reading  concluded,  "it's  worth  dying  once  in  a 
while,  to  get  a  send-off  like  that." 

"Pore  young  man!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Sims, 
looking  up  with  a  sigh  too,  the  relief  from  the 
long  tension,  her  big  creased  solemn  face  bereft  of 
every  dimple. 

The  juggler  caught  himself  hastily.  "The  paper 
does  n't  say  what  Sabbath-school  he  was  a  member 
of,"  he  observed,  with  mock  seriousness. 

"That's  a  fac',"  returned  Euphemia,  unfolding 
the  upper  part  of  the  journal  to  reperuse  with  a 
searching  eye  the  portion  relating  to  biographical 
detail.  After  an  interval  of  vain  scrutiny  she  re 
marked,  "Nor  it  don't  say  nuther  whether  he  war 
a  member  o'  the  Hard-Shell  Baptis'  or  Missionary 
or  Methody." 

"He  mought  be  a  sinner,  an'  the  paper  don't 
like  ter  say  it,  him  bein'  dead,"  wheezed  Mrs. 
Sims  lugubriously,  intuitively  seizing  upon  a  salient 
point  of  polite  modern  journalism.  The  anxious 
speculation  in  her  fat  overclouded  countenance  was 
painful  to  see,  for  Mrs.  Sims  believed  in  a  mate 
rial  hell  with  a  plenitude  of  brimstone  and  blue 
blazes. 

"I  dare  say  he  was  a  sinner!"  exclaimed  the 
juggler,  with  his  manner  of  half -mocking  banter. 
"Poor  Lucien  Royce! " 


'THE  JUGGLER.  121 

Only  late  that  night,  when  all  the  house  was 
still,  and  darkness  was  among  the  sombre  moun 
tains,  and  the  absolute  negation  of  vision  seemed 
to  nullify  all  the  world,  did  his  mood  change.  He 
lay  staring  with  unseeing  eyes  into  the  void  gloom 
about  him,  yet  beholding  with  a  faculty  more  po 
tent  than  sight  the  decorated  chancel,  the  clergy 
man  in  his  surplice,  the  crowds  of  sympathetic 
faces,  the  casket  with  the  funeral  wreaths  covering 
it,  —  the  hideous  mockery  that  it  all  was,  the  ter 
rible  hoax! 


V. 

THE  juggler  was  hardly  disposed  to  felicitate 
himself  upon  this  feat  of  simulation  which  had 
served  to  deceive  the  whole  of  his  native  city,  and 
to  bury  a  stranger,  as  it  were,  in  his  own  grave. 
He  began  to  pity  the  plight  of  the  dead  if  they 
could  so  yearningly  remember  the  life  they  had 
left.  Return  for  him  was  impossible.  Glimpses 
of  the  moon  might  shadow  forth  spirits  revenant, 
but  for  him  memory  only  must  serve.  He  won 
dered  that  he  could  not  accept  conclusions  so  evi 
dently  final,  for  over  and  again,  in  the  deep 
watches  of  the  night,  he  would  argue  anew  within 
himself  the  chances  pro  and  con  of  transforming 
these  immutable  fictions  into  fact,  of  overcoming 
the  appearance  of  crime  by  his  previous  high  char 
acter,  of  relying  on  the  good  feeling  of  the  firm, 
and  the  futility  of  the  proceeding,  to  save  him 
from  prosecution.  Then  always,  when  he  would 
reach  this  point,  and  his  heart  would  begin  to  beat 
fast  with  the  hope  of  restoration  to  life,  it  would 
stand  still  with  a  sudden  paralysis  and  sink  like 
lead ;  for  there  were  interests  other  than  those  of 
revenge  or  justice,  or  preserving  the  public  morals 
by  enforcing  penalties  for  the  infringement  of  the 
law  to  be  served  by  his  incarceration  in  a  good 
strong  safe  prison.  There  existed  a  certain  cor- 


THE  JUGGLER.  123 

poration,  the  Gerault  Bonley  Marble  Company, 
that  he  knew  would  give  much  money  to  be  able 
to  lay  hands  upon  him  now,  and  that  had  doubt 
less  grieved  for  his  demise  like  unto  Rachel  mourn 
ing  for  her  children.  The  Gerault  Bonley  Marble 
Company  had,  in  the  past  few  years,  been  greatly 
enriched  by  the  discovery  of  beds  of  a  very  fine  mar 
ble  in  a  large  body  of  Tennessee  land,  in  which, 
however,  they  merely  held  an  estate  per  autre  vie,  — 
limited  to  the  duration  of  Lucien  Royce's  natural 
existence.  In  this  unique  position  of  a  cestui  que 
vie  he  had  at  first  felt  a  certain  glow  of  pride.  It 
was  characteristic  of  his  knack  of  achieving  impor 
tance  and  prominence  with  so  slight  effort  that  he 
seemed,  as  it  were,  born  to  a  certain  preeminence. 
He  recollected  the  prestige  it  added  to  his  person 
ality  at  the  time  when  it  was  discovered  that  there 
were  great  beds  of  marble  in  the  almost  worthless 
tract,  and  the  sensation  of  pleased  notoriety  he 
had  experienced  when  Mr.  Gerault  Bonley,  the 
president  of  the  company,  a  well-known  broker, 
had  dropped  in  at  the  office  to  look  at  him  —  he 
had  never  taken  the  trouble  before  —  and  have  a 
word  with  him.  "Remember  your  business  is  to 
live,  young  man,"  he  had  said  in  leaving,  flushed 
and  elated  with  success.  "That 's  all  you  have  to 
do.  And  if  you  ever  find  any  hitch  about  doing 
it  pleasantly,  come  to  us,  and  we  will  help  you  eke 
it  ovit.  You  are  the  one  who  lives,  you  under 
stand."  And  he  walked  out,  portly  and  rubicund, 
his  eye  kindling  as  he  went. 


124  THE  JUGGLER. 

Lucien  Royce  had  ridden  up  town  on  the  cable 
car  one  evening,  a  day  or  two  afterward,  and  he 
had  noticed  with  new  interest  a  man,  forlorn, 
shabby,  chewing  the  end  of  a  five-cent  cigar  so 
hard  between  his  teeth  as  he  talked  that  he  was 
unaware  that  its  light  had  died  out,  who  railed  at 
life  and  his  luck  in  unmeasured  terms  that  aston 
ished  the  passengers  precariously  perched  on  the 
platform  of  the  rear  car.  This  was  the  unsuccess 
ful  speculator  who,  some  years  earlier,  had  sought 
to  mortgage  the  land  in  question  to  Mr.  Gerault 
Bonley,  the  broker,  who  had  bought  up  his  paper 
and  was  disposed  toward  thumbscrews.  It  was 
not  a  good  day  for  mortgages,  somehow,  but,  with 
the  desperation  of  a  man  already  pressed  to  the 
wall,  about  as  badly  broken  as  he  was  likely  to  be, 
the  debtor  would  not  consent  to  an  absolute  trans 
fer  of  the  title. 

"The  land  will  be  sold  under  execution,  then," 
he  of  the  thumbscrews  had  said. 

"The  law  allows  two  years  for  redemption,  in 
Tennessee,"  the  owner  had  retorted,  with  the  ex 
pectation  of  better  times  in  his  face. 

Perhaps  because  of  the  resistance,  —  the  broker 
always  said  he  did  not  know  why  he  had  wanted 
the  land,  for  although  he  was  aware  that  a  little 
marble  quarry  had  once  been  worked  there,  it  had 
been  abandoned  as  not  worth  the  labor,  —  still 
protesting  that  he  could  not  avail  himself  of  the 
property  unless  for  a  term  of  years,  at  least,  he 
finally  offered  the  bait  of  enough  ready  money  to 


THE  JUGGLER.  125 

extricate  the  speculator,  and  give  him  another 
show  amongst  the  bulls  and  bears,  and  the  convey 
ance  was  made  for  the  uncertain  term  of  the  life 
of  another.  Lucien  Royce  had  chanced  to  drop 
in  on  some  business  for  Greenhalge,  Gould  & 
Fife,  the  cotton  commission  firm,  a  lithe,  muscular 
young  fellow,  the  ideal  of  an  athlete,  and  the 
thought  suggested  itself  to  the  broker  that  the 
estate  should  be  limited  to  the  duration  of  his  life. 
The  proposition  was  carelessly  acceded  to  by  the 
young  man,  attracted  for  the  moment  by  the  nov 
elty  of  the  proceeding,  apprehending  in  the  matter 
the  merest  formality.  This  was  the  conclusion. 

"And  now  you '11  live  forever!"  cried  the  dis 
appointed  speculator,  suddenly  recognizing,  in  the 
uncertain  light  on  the  platform  of  the  car,  the 
features  of  the  stalwart  cestui  que  vie.  Once  more 
he  was  chewing  hard  on  his  cigar,  once  more  in 
veighing  against  his  accursed  luck,  as  he  stretched 
the  newspaper  toward  the  dull  lamp  of  the  car,  in 
dicating  with  a  trembling  hand  the  big  head-lines 
chronicling  the  discovery,  while  the  cumbrous 
vehicle  went  gliding  along  through  the  blue  haze 
of  the  dusk  and  the  smoke  and  the  dust,  —  the 
medium  through  which  the  looming  blocks  of  build 
ings  and  the  long  double  file  of  electric  lights  were 
visible  down  the  avenue.  "You'll  live  forever, 
while  those  men  make  millions  on  the  tract  they 
euchred  me  out  of  at  ten  dollars  an  acre!  It 
would  be  a  charity  for  you  to  fall  off  the  car  and 
break  your  backbone.  They  tell  me  concussion  of 


126  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  brain  is  painless.  I  '11  swear  I  'd  feel  justified 
if  I  should  hide  in  a  dark  alley,  some  night,  and 
garrote  you  as  you  go  by  to  the  club." 

"There  's  another  case  of  garroting  in  the 
paper,"  observed  a  mutual  acquaintance  by  way 
of  diversion. 

"I  noticed  it.  That 's  what  reminded  me  of  it. 
It 's  like  lassoing.  I  lived  a  long  time  in  Texas," 
he  said,  as  he  swung  himself  off  at  a  side-street, 
and  disappeared  in  the  closing  haze  that  baffled 
the  incandescent  lights  showing  upon  its  density 
in  yellow  blurs  without  illuminating  it. 

"You'd  better  look  out  for  that  man,  sure 
enough,"  the  literal-minded  mutual  acquaintance 
warned  Lucien  Royce.  "He  feels  mighty  sore. 
This  company  is  going  to  make  *  big  money '  on 
his  land." 

But  Royce  laughed  it  off.  "I  am  the  one  who 
lives,"  he  boasted. 

He  found  it  not  altogether  so  can-less  an  exist 
ence  since  it  was  worth  so  much  financially.  His 
acute  sensibilities  realized  a  sort  of  espionage  be 
fore  he  was  definitely  aware  of  it.  He  came  to 
know  that  he  was  reckoned  up.  What  he  did, 
where  he  went,  how  he  felt,  were  matters  in  which 
other  people  were  concerning  themselves.  He 
resented  the  irksome  experience  as  an  attack  on 
his  liberty.  He  felt  no  longer  a  free  man.  And 
this  impression  grew  as  the  yield  from  the  property 
promised  more  and  more.  The  Bonley  Company 
had  gone  to  heavy  expenses.  They  had  put  iu 


THE  JUGGLER.  127 

costly  machinery.  They  had  hired  gangs  and 
gangs  of  men.  They  had  built  miles  of  narrow- 
gauge  railroad,  to  convey  the  stone  by  land  as  well 
as  by  water.  It  had  become  a  gigantic  venture. 
The  jocose  "Take  care!"  "Live  for  my  sake!" 
"Be  good  to  yourself!  "  which  had  at  first  formed 
the  staple  of  the  injunctions  to  him  when  he 
chanced  to  encounter  any  member  of  the  company, 
changed  to  serious  solicitous  inquiry  which  affronted 
him.  More  than  once  Mr.  Bonley  called  upon  him 
to  remonstrate  about  late  hours,  heavy  suppers, 
and  the  disastrous  effects  upon  the  constitution  of 
drinking  wine  and  strong  waters.  Thus  the  rubi 
cund  Mr.  Gerault  Bonley,  whose  countenance  was 
brilliant  with  the  glow  of  old  Rye!  In  one  in 
stance,  when  Royce's  somewhat  cavalier  and  scorn 
ful  reception  of  these  kind  attentions  served  to 
rouse  Mr.  Bonley  to  the  realization  that  the  cestui 
que  vie  claimed  the  right  to  have  other  objects  in 
existence  than  merely  to  live  for  the  corporation's 
sake,  the  president  of  the  company  apologized,  but 
urged  him  to  consider,  for  the  justification  of  this 
anxiety,  what  large  financial  interests  and  liabili 
ties  hung  upon  the  thread  of  his  life.  There  was 
a  panic  among  the  company  whenever  he  went  to 
the  seashore  for  a  short  vacation,  and  once  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  out  of  a  trip  to 
Europe,  of  which  acquiescence  he  was  afterward 
ashamed,  —  so  much  so  that  when  a  place  in  the 
office  of  the  Bonley  Company  was  offered  him, 
with  a  large  increase  of  salary,  but  with  the  un- 


128  THE  JUGGLER. 

avowed  purpose  of  keeping  him  under  surveillance, 
that  he  might  always  be  at  hand  and  easily  reck 
oned  up,  he  declined  it  with  such  peremptoriness 
as  to  cause  the  company  to  relax  this  unwise  exhi 
bition  of  solicitude  for  the  time,  and  greatly  to 
please  his  own  firm,  Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife, 
who  had  not  relished  the  effort  to  decoy  a  confi 
dential  clerk  from  their  employ.  On  one  occasion 
when,  in  training  for  a  boat-race,  he  was  suddenly 
prostrated  by  the  heat,  the  anxiety  of  the  Gerault 
Bonley  Marble  Company  knew  no  bounds,  and  its 
manifestation  more  than  verged  upon  the  ridic 
ulous;  it  was  the  joke  of  the  whole  town.  The 
claims  of  his  own  personal  friends  —  he  had  no 
near  relatives  —  were  set  at  naught.  The  com 
pany  took  possession  of  him.  He  came  to  himself 
in  one  of  the  well-appointed  guest-chambers  of 
Mr.  Bonley's  own  house;  and  when  he  rallied, 
which  he  did  almost  immediately,  with  the  recu 
perative  powers  of  youth  and  his  great  strength,  he 
was  detained  there  several  days  longer  than  was 
necessary  by  his  host's  insistence,  until  indeed  the 
physician  in  charge  laughed  in  the  face  of  Mr. 
Gerault  Bonley,  the  broker. 

"Take  care  you  don't  do  anything  eccentric," 
the  doctor  said  in  parting  at  last  from  his  patient. 
"That  company  might  shut  you  up  in  a  lunatic 
asylum  or  a  sanitarium,  where  you  would  be  ready 
for  inspection  at  all  hours,  —  just  to  make  sure 
you  are  alive,  you  see." 

It  was  meant  for  a  joke,  but  it  grated  on  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  129 

nerves  of  the  cestui  que  vie.  And  now  it  came 
back  as  he  lay  under  the  dark  roof  of  Tubal  Cain 
Sims' s  house,  staring  into  the  unresponsive  night, 
with  the  thought  that  a  good  strong  state  prison 
would  serve  the  purpose  of  the  Marble  Company, 
looking  toward  his  safekeeping,  more  effectually 
still.  He  could  well  understand  their  despair 
upon  the  supposed  determination  of  the  life  estate, 
for  since  they  had  secured  the  land  at  slight  cost, 
the  vast  profits  of  the  industry  were  to  the  ordinary 
business  mind  all  the  dearer,  being  the  favor,  as 
it  were,  of  chance,  or  the  uncovenanted  mercy  of 
Providence,  —  "clean  make."  How  could  they 
survive  the  reversion  of  the  property,  with  all  its 
present  wealth  and  its  future  prospects,  to  the 
original  grantor?  His  imagination,  alert  as  it 
was,  failed  to  respond  to  so  heavy  a  demand  upon 
its  resources.  Should  they  find  that  the  death  of 
the  cestui  que  vie  was  spurious,  their  tenancy  not 
yet  expired,  should  they  be  restored  to  their  former 
status,  what  a  warning  this  untoward  alarm  would 
seem,  what  restraints  upon  his  liberty  might  not 
be  attempted!  The  idea  bereft  him  of  his  last 
hope.  Could  he  reasonably  expect  to  escape  prose 
cution  when  his  custody  in  the  clutches  of  the  law 
was  so  obviously  to  the  interests  of  a  powerful 
corporation  like  this?  Even  if  his  own  firm  of 
Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife  should  be  averse  to  it 
to  avenge  their  losses,  what  powerful  influence 
would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  them  by  the 
Gerault  Bonley  Marble  Company ;  what  substantial 


130  THE  JUGGLER. 

values  were  to  be  dangled  before  the  eyes  of  a 
broken  firm  in  the  friendship  and  backing  of  a 
strong  financial  association  like  this!  The  Mar 
ble  Company  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to 
place  him  behind  the  bars.  There  could  Mr. 
Bonley  come  and  look  at  him  any  fine  day,  as  he 
sat  making  shoes  and  saddles,  —  he  had  heard  that 
at  the  penitentiary  they  put  their  swell  guests  to 
such  occupations,  and  his  deft  fingers  might  com 
mend  their  utility  in  this  service  to  the  common 
wealth,  —  or  perhaps  busied  in  some  clerical  capa 
city  to  which  his  long  experience  in  counting-rooms 
rendered  him  apt.  Mr.  Bonley's  scarlet  counte 
nance  and  bristly  white  mustache  were  of  a  calmer 
aspect  as  they  appeared  in  this  vision  than  they 
had  worn  in  reality  for  many  a  long  day!  The 
menu  would  contain  naught  to  destroy  the  diges 
tion  of  the  cestui  que  vie  or  affright  the  Marble 
Company  in  the  way  of  midnight  suppers  and  un 
limited  champagne.  There  would  be  no  wild  up 
roarious  companions,  no  gambling  escapades,  no 
perilous  activities  on  the  horizontal  bar,  —  what 
war  had  Mr.  Bonley  waged  against  his  attachment 
to  the  gymnasium!  —  no  swimming-matches,  no 
boat-races,  no  encounters  with  gloves  or  foils. 
Truly  Mr.  Bonley's  estate  would  be  gracious 
indeed ! 

No;  Lucien  Royce  felt  that  his  escape  was  a 
crowning  mercy  vouchsafed.  His  most  imperative 
care  should  be  to  make  it  good,  or  he  might  well 
spend  a  decade  of  the  best  years  of  his  life  behind 


THE  JUGGLER.  131 

the  bars  for  a  crime  he  had  not  committed.  His 
incarceration  would  easily  be  compassed,  were  his 
defense  far  more  complete  than  perverse  circum 
stance  rendered  possible,  by  the  craft  and  persist 
ence  of  men  who  had  such  large  interests  at  stake 
on  the  life  and  well-being  of  a  wild,  adventurous, 
hairbrained  boy.  His  supposititious  death  had 
saved  his  name,  his  commercial  honor,  which  he 
held  dear.  John  Grayson,  with  the  theft  of  the 
belt  and  its  treasure,  had  also  taken  his  life  —  for 
he  had  no  life  left!  He  was  dead!  He  was 
very  dead!  And  let  the  Gerault  Bonley  Marble 
Company  mourn  him.  With  a  laughing  sneer 
on  his  face,  he  cursed  again,  as  he  had  cursed  a 
thousand  times,  the  plastic  folly,  or  the  vagary 
of  chance,  or  whatever  fate  it  was  that  induced 
him  to  lend  himself  to  the  broker's  scheme;  for 
although  he  had  thought  it  a  mere  formality,  it 
had  in  effect  sold  him  into  a  species  of  slavery  for 
the  rest  of  his  natural  life.  "  But  is  not  my  advice 
good  advice?  "  Mr.  Bonley  had  more  than  once 
urged  upon  his  recalcitrant  mood.  "Is  it  not  in 
your  own  interests  as  well  as  in  ours?  Is  it  not 
exactly  the  advice  I  would  give  to  my  own  son  ?  " 

"He  needs  it.  Give  it  to  him,"  the  cestui  que 
vie  would  reply  in  flippant  despair.  But  Mr. 
Bonley 's  son  was  not  worth  so  much  money  to  the 
company,  and  he  went  his  own  ways  with  some 
celerity,  all  unchecked. 

The  continually  administered  cautions,  the  sense 
of  sustaining  anxiety,  espionage,  criticism,  of  thus 


132  THE  JUGGLER. 

sharing  his  life,  had  made  it  in  some  sort  a  burden 
to  the  merry  cestui  que  vie  ;  and  therefore,  in  the 
first  days  of  his  escape,  the  realization  of  the  petty 
persecutions,  the  irksome  advice  of  the  ill-advised 
Mr.  Bonley,  shaken  off  and  forever  thwarted, 
seemed  to  the  young  man  only  matter  for  self- 
gratulation.  In  the  accumulation  of  these  trifles 
in  his  thoughts,  he  had  lost  sight  of  the  far-reach 
ing  significance  of  the  event  until  he  had  reached 
the  haven  of  Etowah  Cove,  and  his  bodily  fatigue 
and  distress  of  mind  were  somewhat  allayed.  Then 
he  began  to  perceive  that  in  this  fictitious  death 
a  great  property  had  changed  hands,  a  definite 
right  was  subverted;  a  terrible  fraud  had  been 
practiced  on  the  tenants  per  autre  vie,  in  that  the 
life  estate  was  not  yet  terminated.  Mr.  Gerault 
Bonley  was  mulcted  of  his  prominence  as  a  ludi 
crous-,  pertinacious,  troublous  bore,  and  the  per 
sonality  of  the  company  was  asserted  as  possessors 
of  certain  rights  and  large  interests  of  which  they 
were  to  be  bereft  through  his  agency.  He  was 
offered  his  choice,  —  to  stay  dead,  or  to  go  back 
and  serve  a  term  in  the  penitentiary  for  a  crime 
he  had  never  committed,  to  benefit  the  financial 
interests  of  Mr.  Gerault  Bonley  and  his  associates. 
He  sought  now  and  again  some  solace  in  reflecting 
upon  the  hard  bargain  that  Mr.  Bonley  had  driven 
with  the  original  owner,  the  poetic  justice  that  his 
lands  should  revert  to  him  in  his  lifetime,  their 
value  enhanced  a  thousandfold  by  their  own  inher 
ent  natural  wealth,  which  had  been  merely  devel- 


THE  JUGGLER.  133 

oped,  not  bestowed,  by  the  Marble  Company.  "  I 
have  made  one  poor  soul  happy,  anyhow!  It's 
just  as  well  that  he  should  get  the  land  before  they 
have  sold  and  shipped  all  the  rock  in  it.  He 
would  have  nothing  left  except  a  hole  in  the  ground 
but  for  this,"  he  muttered  to  his  pillow.  For  the 
Marble  Company  had  been  exempted  by  the  terms 
of  the  grant  from  "any  impeachment  of  waste," 
and  had  successfully  defended  a  suit  brought  by 
the  reversioner,  who  sought  to  restrain  their  opera 
tions  by  showing  that  not  even  the  surface  of  his 
tract  would  be  left  to  him  upon  the  determination  of 
the  estate  per  autre  vie.  "  He  never  seemed  to  have 
any  grudge  against  me,  and  I  can't  say  I  blame  him 
for  being  glad  I  am  dead,"  said  Royce,  seeking  to 
gauge  the  sentiments  of  the  joyful  reversioner. 

Nevertheless,  all  his  commercial  instincts  re 
volted.  They  would  not  support  this  arbitrary 
dispensing  of  justice.  The  Gerault  Bonley  Mar 
ble  Company's  right  was  definite  and  indefeasible, 
and  unlawfully  he  had  divested  them  of  it.  The 
idea  was  abhorrent  to  his  commercial  conscience. 
All  the  depth  of  character  which  he  possessed  lay  in 
this  endowment.  He  had  no  religious  convictions, 
no  spiritual  estimate  of  the  abstractions  of  right 
and  wrong.  To  him  the  thought  of  religion  was 
like  a  capitulation.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him 
as  a  thing  to  live  by.  It  seemed  of  the  nature  of 
mortuaries,  akin  to  last  wills  and  testaments,  of 
the  very  essence  of  finality.  His  moral  structure 
was  the  creation  of  correct  commercial  principles, 


134  THE  JUGGLER. 

—  sound  enough,  but  limited.  It  was  an  impene 
trable  external  shell,  at  once  an  asset,  a  protection, 
and  a  virtue,  but  it  had  no  intimate  inner  tissues. 
His  soul  languished  inert  within  it.  As  far  as 
his  financial  integrity  was  concerned,  there  had 
been  no  leanings  to  the  wrong,  no  struggles  against 
temptation,  not  even  temptation;  he  was  proof 
against  it.  His  integrity  diminished  even  his  ca 
pacity  for  repentance.  He  had  never  felt  himself 
a  sinner.  On  the  contrary,  he  thought  he  had 
done  mighty  well.  He  had  been  for  years  in  touch 
with  the  markets  at  home  and  abroad,  but  he  could 
quote  no  spiritual  values.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  groped  for  a  knowledge  of  the  right, 
he  strove  with  the  definite  sense  of  wrong-doing. 
His  supposed  death  had  all  the  taint  of  dishonor; 
it  affected  him  as  a  false  entry  might  have  done. 
The  indirect  good  that  it  wrought,  the  natural 
justice  that  it  meted  out,  appealed  to  him  no  more 
than  the  success  of  speculating  with  the  funds  of 
the  firm  that  employed  him  might  serve  to  com 
mend  this  peculation  to  his  incorruptible  commer 
cial  honor. 

He  fared  better  when  he  sought  to  protest  an 
irresponsibility.  It  was  the  Marble  Company's 
affair  to  disprove  his  death  if  they  could,  to  main 
tain  themselves  in  continual  assurance  of  his  life. 
"I  've  seen  old  Bonley  perform  so  long  like  a  hen 
with  one  chicken  that  I  imitate  him  instinctively. 
I  assume  a  sort  of  guardianship  of  the  Gerault 
Bonley  Marble  Company  as  they  assumed  it  of 


THE  JUGGLER.  135 

me,  and  one  is  as  absurd  as  the  other.  The  com 
pany's  counsel  ought  to  be  equal  to  the  situation. 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  Their  property 
is  held  for  a  term  of  years,  which  happens  to  be 
the  duration  of  my  life.  I  take  on  as  if  a  cestui 
que  vie  was  a  salaried  officer  of  the  Bonley  Com 
pany,  —  as  if  I  were  paid  for  drawing  the  breath 
of  life.  It  is  no  part  of  my  duty  to  report  con 
tinually  for  observation.  I  forfeit  no  pledge.  I 
violate  no  trust.  And  self-preservation  is  the  first 
law  of  nature." 

With  these  vacillations  he  had  struggled  in 
throes  of  mental  agony  as  he  lay  on  the  ledges  of 
the  rocks  above  the  river  and  affected  to  angle; 
or  as  he  wandered  alone  through  the  woods;  or 
when  he  sat,  unheeding  the  drawling  talk  of  his 
host,  in  the  open  passage  where  they  lighted  their 
pipes  together,  his  evident  preoccupation  shrewdly 
noted  by  the  suspicious  mountaineer;  or,  more 
than  all,  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  be 
fore  physical  fatigue  could  coerce  sleep  to  his  aid, 
—  always  arguing  the  wrong  that  his  silence  and 
absence  wrought  to  others,  yet  the  false  suspicion 
on  the  part  of  Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife,  and 
the  consequent  terrible  fate  that  his  return  would 
bring  upon  himself;  the  intrinsic  justice  in  the 
restoration  to  the  reversioner  of  his  plundered 
lands,  and  yet  the  positive  legal  rights  which  the 
Gerault  Bonley  Marble  Company  held  in  their  un- 
expired  tenancy  per  autre  vie ;  the  lies  that  thus 
conspired  in  their  masquerade  as  truth,  yet  the 


136  THE  JUGGLER. 

fact  that  the  truth  unmasked  would  prove  the 
falsest  of  them  all.  He  had  never  in  all  the  exer- 
citations  of  his  various  problems  seemed  so  near 
a  definite  and  final  decision  as  now.  Never  had 
he  reverted  so  often  to  one  basis  of  action.  He 
determined  that  he  would  not  return  to  the  cer 
tainty  of  an  ignominious  imprisonment  on  a  false 
suspicion  for  the  sole  benefit  of  a  strong  corpora 
tion  of  financial  sharks,  who,  on  the  pretext  of  a 
tenancy  per  autre  vie,  were  tearing  the  estate  of 
their  grantor  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth ;  the 
reversioner  would  have  nothing  left  but  literally 
a  hole  in  the  ground !  This  awful  sacrificial  sur 
render  would  serve  no  moral  right,  but  one  of 
those  legalized  robberies  which  arise  from  a  fault 
of  the  law  through  its  constitutional  deficiencies, 
being  at  last  only  of  human  device.  And  if,  he 
argued,  it  was  not  his  function  to  remodel  the 
laws,  and  administer  them  according  to  the  moral 
basis  of  evident  right,  it  was  in  this  instance  his 
privilege  to  dispense  even-handed  justice. 

But  when  he  fell  asleep,  and  his  will  lay  dor 
mant,  and  his  reasoning  faculties  were  blunted, 
and  only  his  conscience  vaguely  throbbed  with  an 
unassuaged  wound,  the  sense  of  the  commercial 
wrong  that  he  did,  the  realization  of  the  definite 
legal  right  that  he  extinguished,  the  weight  of  re 
sponsibility  with  which  his  mere  breathing  the 
breath  of  life  had  burdened  him,  all  were  reas 
serted  without  the  connivance  of  volition,  and  over 
and  over  again  that  poignant  cry,  "But  the  one 


THE   JUGGLER.  137 

who  lives  —  the  one  for  whose  life  —  his  life  —  his 
life  —  his  life !  "  rang  through  the  house  with  all 
the  pent-up  agony  of  his  days  of  doubt  and  striv 
ings  and  distress  in  its  tone. 

It  was  a  silent  house.  No  wind  stirred.  Not 
a  leaf  rustled.  One  might  hear  the  ash  crumble 
covering  the  embers  on  the  hearth.  A  vague  mo 
notone  came  from  the  river.  Outside,  the  still 
radiance  of  a  late -risen  moon  lay  pallid  and  lonely 
on  the  newly  ploughed  fields.  Here  and  there 
crevices  in  the  chinking  between  the  logs  of  the 
walls  made  shift  to  admit  a  ray,  sending  its  slight 
shaft  through  the  brown  gloom  of  the  interior, 
visible  itself  and  luminous  in  its  filar  tenuity,  yet 
dispensing  no  light.  One  of  these  rays  glimmered 
through  the  clapboards  of  the  roof  on  the  face  of 
the  sleeper,  which  showed  in  the  dusk,  with  all  its 
wan  trouble  on  it,  with  the  distinctness  of  some 
sharply  cut  cameo,  to  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  who,  half 
dressed  and  with  shock  head  and  bare  feet,  had 
climbed  the  stair,  and  lurked  there  listening,  that 
perchance  he  might  hear  more  to  convey  to  the 
sharp-set  curiosity  of  the  magisterial  lime-burner. 

This  involuntary  lapse  of  his  resolution  left  no 
trace  on  the  juggler's  consciousness  when  he  awoke 
the  next  morning.  He  was  not  aware  that  he  had 
dreamed,  that  in  sleeping  he  had  swerved  from  his 
intention,  far  less  that  he  had  cried  out  in  his  un 
realized  mental  anguish.  He  took  comfort  from 
his  stanch  mental  poise.  The  fact  that  he  held 
fast  to  his  conclusion  seemed  to  confirm  the  valid- 


138  THE  JUGGLER. 

ity  of  his  judgment.  Here  he  was  to  begin  life 
anew,  and  it  behooved  him  to  make  the  most  and 
the  best  of  it.  For  one  moment  the  recollection 
of  the  world  he  had  left  almost  overcame  him,  — 
the  contrast  it  bore  to  his  sorry  future !  Even  its 
workaday,  aspect,  —  the  office,  his  high  desk  by 
the  window,  the  thunder  of  the  cotton-laden  wag 
ons  in  the  streets  and  the  clamor  of  voices  impin 
ging  so  slightly  on  his  absorption  in  his  work  as  to 
be  ignored,  —  even  this  wrung  a  pang  from  him 
now.  How  much  more  the  thought  of  the  club, 
with  its  brilliant  lights,  and  its  luxury  of  furnish 
ing,  and  its  delectable  cuisine,  and  the  pretensions 
of  its  elder  members,  and  the  countenance  they 
were  pleased  to  show  him ;  of  the  fraternity  halls 
where  he  was  so  prime  a  favorite;  of  the  gymna 
sium  he  affected,  and  the  boating  and  swimming 
clubs ;  of  his  choice  social  circle,  with  its  germans 
and  musicales,  its  little  dinners  and  tally-ho  drives, 
its  private  theatricals,  its  decorous  parlors  of  re 
fined  and  elegant  suggestions,  of  which  he  valued 
the  entree  in  proportion  as  he  had  once  felt  it 
jeopardized  by  the  bruiting  abroad  of  that  wild 
gambling  escapade,  which  he  feared,  in  the  estima 
tion  of  the  severe  and  straight-laced  matrons  and 
delicate-minded  young  girls,  ill  became  a  member 
of  so  elevated  a  coterie.  They  seemed,  in  his 
recollection,  of  an  embellished  beauty  and  aloof 
majesty  infinitely  removed  from  his  sordid  plight 
and  maimed  estate.  He  faltered  as  he  thought  of 
his  hopeless  alienation  from  it  all,  his  dreary  exile. 


THE  JUGGLER.  139 

And  then,  with  a  sudden  bracing  of  the  nerves, 
he  reflected  on  the  view  which  this  refined  society 
would  entertain  of  the  alternative  that  fate  pre 
sented;  the  disgrace  which  he  would  sustain  in  his 
return  was  hardly  to  be  mentioned  to  ears  so  po 
lite  !  Was  he  farther  from  his  friends  here  than 
he  would  be  there  ?  Was  he  more  definitely  ban 
ished  from  his  wonted  sphere?  He  was  dead  to 
them,  —  forever  dead,  —  and  the  sooner  forgotten 
the  better ! 

In  pursuance  of  his  determination,  he  went 
downstairs  arrayed  in  the  blue-checked  homespun 
shirt  and  gray  jeans  trousers  which  Mrs.  Sims 
with  so  great  and  dilatory  labor  had  contrived. 
He  thought  he  looked  the  typical  mountaineer  in 
this  attire,  with  a  pair  of  long  cowhide  boots,  pur 
chased  at  the  cross-roads  store,  drawn  up  to  his 
knees  over  the  legs  of  the  trousers,  and  a  white 
wool  hat  of  broad  brim  set  far  back  on  his  dark 
red-brown  hair.  He  could  hardly  have  deceived 
even  an  unpracticed  eye.  The  texture  of  his  skin, 
shielded  by  his  vocation  from  wind  and  weather ; 
the  careful  grooming  which  was  the  habit  of  years ; 
the  trained  step  and  pose  and  manner,  unconscious 
though  they  were;  the  hand,  delicate,  however 
muscular,  and  white,  and  with  well-tended  nails; 
the  silken  quality  of  his  smooth  hair  and  mustache ; 
the  expression  of  the  eye ;  —  he  looked  like  a  young 
"society  swell"  dressed  for  a  rural  role  in  private 
theatricals. 

Mrs.  Sims,  who  was  languidly  setting  the  table 


140  THE  JUGGLER. 

in  the  passage,  while  Euphemia,  clashing  the  pots 
and  pans  and  kettles  in  the  room  to  the  left,  was 
"dishin'  up"  breakfast,  paused  in  her  wheezing 
hymn,  catching  sight  of  him,  to  survey  her  handi 
work. 

"Waal!"  she  exclaimed  in  delighted  pride,  ap 
propriating  to  her  own  skill  the  credit  of  the  effect 
of  his  symmetry.  "Now  don't  them  clothes  jes' 
set!  I '11  be  boun'  nobody  kin  say  ez  I  ain't  a 
plumb  special  hand  fur  the  needle  an'  shears!  I 
jes'  want  Tubal  Cain  Sims  ter  view  them  *  vain 
trappin's,'  ez  the  hyme  calls  'em,  — though  ez  we 
ain't  endowed  by  Providence  with  feathers,  thar 
ain't  no  use  in  makin'  a  sin  out'n  hevin'  the  bes' 
clothes  what  we  kin  git." 

The  juggler  was  as  vain  as  a  young  man  can 
well  be.  But  he  had  seldom  encountered  such 
outspoken  admiration,  and  was  a  trifle  out  of 
countenance;  for  what  Mrs.  Sims  conceived  to  be 
the  excellence  of  her  own  proficiency  as  a  tailor 
he  apprehended  was  due  to  the  graces  of  his  per 
sonal  endowment.  He  made  her  a  flourishing  bow 
of  mock  courtesy,  and  then  stood  leaning  against 
the  jamb  of  the  door,  one  hand  in  the  pocket  of 
the  gray  trousers,  the  other  readjusting  the  wide 
low  shirt-collar  about  his  throat. 

"I  'd  like  ter  know  what  Tubal  Cain  Sims  will 
say  now ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sims,  pursuing  corol 
laries  of  the  main  proposition  of  triumph.  "He 
'lows,  whenst  I  make  him  ennythin'  ter  wear,  ez 
he  kin  sca'cely  find  his  way  inter  sech  sliapen 


THE  JUGGLER.  141 

gear.  An'  whenst  in  'em,  he  'lows  he  '11  never 
git  out  no  mo',  an'  air  clad  in  his  grave-clothes  — 
goin'  'bout  workin'  an'  sech  —  in  his  grave- 
clothes!  It 's  a  plumb  sin,  the  way  he  talks!  " 

Her  face  clouded  for  an  instant,  remembering 
the  ungrateful  flouts ;  then  as  her  gaze  returned  to 
her  guest,  she  dimpled  anew. 

"But  laws-a-massy !  "  she  cried,  "how  peart  ye 
do  'pear  in  them  clothes,  to  be  sure!  A  heap 
more  like  sure  enough  folks  than  in  them  comical 
little  pantees  ye  hev  been  a-wearin'." 

He  could  not  forbear  a  laugh  at  her  criticism  of 
the  spruce  knickerbockers;  but  with  the  thought 
of  the  varying  standards  of  a  different  status  of 
life  the  realization  of  his  exile  came  to  him  anew, 
and  imbittered  the  decoction  called  coffee  which 
Mrs.  Sims  handed  to  him,  and  although  his  eyes 
were  diy,  as  he  gulped  it  down,  he  tasted  tears. 

It  was  difficult  for  him  to  resent  any  admiration 
of  himself  as  too  redundant,  but  she  could  not  quit 
the  subject,  and  pointed  out  to  Tubal  Cain  Sims, 
when  he  entered,  the  excellence  of  the  fit  of  the 
shirt  about  the  shoulders  and  its  flatness  in  the 
back;  apparently  arguing  that  if  this  shirt  fitted 
the  juggler,  it  was  only  Tubal  Cain  Sims's  rugged 
temper  and  finical  fancy  that  his  shirt  did  not  fit. 
The  old  man's  prominent  shoulder-blades  were  not 
long  destined  to  be  concealed  by  the  worn  cloth 
drawn  taut  across  their  recurved  arches  as  he 
leaned  slouchingly  forward,  and  the  loose  ampli 
tudes  over  his  narrow  bent  chest  might  well  have 


142  THE  JUGGLER. 

been  economized  for  a  supplement  across  the  shoul 
ders.  It  never  seemed  to  occur  to  either  of  them 
that  the  cloth  should  be  cut  to  suit  the  figure,  or 
at  all  events  the  bearing,  of  the  wearer.  She  only 
tortured  her  helpless  partner  with  her  adherence 
to  a  pattern  at  least  fifty  years  old,  and  which  had 
fitted  him  well  enough  twenty -five  years  ago ;  but 
as  seam,  gusset,  and  band  burst  under  the  stress 
of  his  crookedness  and  increasing  slouch,  he  con 
sidered  that  the  hand  of  Jane  Ann  Sims  had  ut 
terly  forgotten  its  cunning,  and  talked  as  if  his 
clothes  were  a  trap  requiring  a  certain  diligence 
of  investigation  to  get  into,  and  from  which  there 
was  no  escape. 

The  juggler  grew  restive  lest  Euphemia  should 
enter  while  he  was  a  bone  of  contention  between 
the  two,  for  Mrs.  Sims  was  still  disposed  to  call 
on  all  who  might  behold  to  note  the  beauty  of 
the  fit  of  his  shirt,  and  Tubal  Cain  Sims  as  reso 
lutely  refused  to  admire.  Royce  was  ready  to 
laugh  at  himself  that  he  should  thus  desire  to  shirk 
these  personalities  in  Euphemia's  presence,  and 
that  he  should  assume  for  her  a  delicacy  in  the 
discussion  which  he  was  very  sure  Mrs.  Sims  would 
not  appreciate.  Yet  he  was  not  so  coxcombical  as 
to  preempt  for  her  Mrs.  Sims's  standpoint;  he 
realized  that  she  might  be  as  stolidly  unadmiring 
as  Tubal  Cain  himself.  He  finished  his  breakfast 
with  a  hasty  swallow  or  two,  and  was  about  to 
take  himself  off  with  his  fishing-rod  down  to  the 
river,  hearing  Mrs.  Sims  remarking  after  him, 


THE  JUGGLER.  143 

"Ye  oughter  thank  the  Lord  on  your  bended 
knees,  young  man,  fur  the  fit  o'  them  clothes," 
and  Tubal  Cain  Sims's  growl  of  objurgation  that 
"folks  oughter  have  better  manners  an'  sense  'n 
ter  be  thankin'  the  Lord  for  the  set  o'  thar  clothes 
on  the  blessed  Sabbath  day." 

"Is  this  Sunday?  "  asked  the  juggler,  and  stood 
stock-still. 

"It  air  the  blessed  Sabbath,"  said  Tubal  Cain, 
his  eyes  still  full  of  the  misfit  rancor  and  his  mouth 
full  of  corn  dodger. 

Ah,  how  Lucien  Royce  heard  across  the  silent 
Cove  the  bells  ringing  from  the  church  towers  of 
St.  Louis,  hundreds  of  miles  away!  He  distin 
guished  even  the  melody  that  the  chimes  were  rip 
pling  out,  —  he  would  have  sworn  to  it  amongst  a 
thousand,  —  and  the  booming  of  heavier  metal 
sounding  from  neighboring  steeples.  He  knew 
just  how  a  certain  dissonance  impinged  upon  the 
melodious  tumult,  —  the  bell  of  an  old  church  be 
low  Seventeenth  Street  that  had  a  crack  in  it  and 
rang  false.  The  raucous  voices  of  newsboys  were 
calling  the  Sunday  papers,  much  further  up  town 
than  on  week-days.  The  clanging  of  the  cable 
cars  sounded  here,  there,  everywhere;  the  sunlit 
streets  were  full  of  people.  And  then,  as  his 
heart  was  throbbing  near  to  breaking  for  this  his 
world,  his  home,  of  which  he  was  bereft,  he  real 
ized  how  his  imagination  had  cheated  him.  Across 
the  Cove  the  slanting  sun-rays  had  not  yet  reached 
the  levels  of  the  basin ;  the  red  hue  of  the  dawn- 


144  THE  JUGGLER. 

ing  still  tinged  them.  The  mists  of  the  night 
clung  yet  in  purple  shadowy  ravines.  The  dew 
was  in  the  air.  Away  —  away  —  the  far  city  of 
the  mirage  lay  sluggard  and  asleep.  No  bell  rang 
there  save  the  Angelus.  Now  and  again  a  figure 
slipped  along  to  early  mass.  The  rumbling  wheels 
of  a  baker's  wagon  or  the  tinkle  of  a  milkman's 
bell  might  sound,  —  a  phase  of  the  town,  an  hour 
of  the  day  he  did  not  know  and  for  which  he  did 
not  care.  And  so  he  was  admonished  to  beware 
of  fancies.  This  —  this  was  his  home,  and  here 
he  was  to  spend  his  life. 

He  hardly  knew  how  he  might  contrive  to 
spend  the  day,  he  said,  as  he  flung  himself  down 
on  a  ledge  of  the  rock  overlooking  the  river.  He 
appreciated  how  he  would  value  the  rest,  had  a 
week  of  hard  work  preceded  it.  He  was  no  Sab 
batarian  on  religious  principles,  but  adhered  to  the 
theory  as  physically  economical.  As  he  lay  smok 
ing,  he  argued  that  much  of  his  tendency  to  revert 
to  the  troubles  that  had  whelmed  him,  to  pine  for 
even  the  minutiae  of  his  old  life,  —  aught  that  sug 
gested  it  was  dear!  —  to  forget  that  it  had  gone 
forever  and  could  never  be  conjured  back,  and  that 
a  far  different  fate  awaited  him  in  his  familiar 
world,  was  only  an  indication  of  the  morbid  influ 
ence  of  idleness  and  mental  solitude.  The  persist 
ence  of  the  activities  of  the  human  mind  is  but 
scantily  realized.  Given  adequate  subjects  to 
work  upon,  to  engross  it,  —  a  stent,  so  to  speak, 
—  and  its  powers  seem  rarely  greater  than  its 


THE  JUGGLER.  145 

task;  but  remove  the  objective  point  of  occupa 
tion,  and  the  complications  of  the  engine,  its  nor 
mal  strength  yet  its  perilous  fragility,  its  inherent 
tendencies  to  dislocation,  its  perpetual  uncontrol 
lable  subjection  to  any  idea,  evolved  at  haphazard, 
clutched  with  a  tenacity  as  of  the  muscles  of  a  gal 
vanized  grasp,  result  in  a  chaos  of  disaster,  the 
mere  contemplation  of  which  is  wonderfully  con 
ducive  to  energy  and  the  embellishment  of  toil. 

Blessed  are  the  hard  workers,  for  their  minds 
and  their  hearts  shall  be  sound.  This  truth  was 
most  deeply  felt  by  the  young  exile  from  the  busi 
ness  world  as  well  as  the  world  of  pleasure. 

"I  must  get  at  something,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"I  must  realize  that  I  am  here  to  stay.  This  jug 
gling  money  "  —  he  rattled  in  his  pocket  the  silver 
that  he  had  earned  the  evening  of  his  ill-starred 
entertainment  —  "won't  last  forever,  even  at  the 
rates  of  board  and  lodging  in  Etowah  Cove.  It 
would  be  the  part  of  wisdom  to  ingratiate  myself 
with  the  miller,  —  cross-grained  old  donkey,  — 
help  him  with  the  mill,  many  the  miller's  daugh 
ter,  and  succeed  to  the  throne." 

He  laughed,  with  a  mocking  relish  of  the  incon 
gruity  of  the  idea.  Then,  as  he  thought  of  the 
miller's  daughter,  a  vague  perception  came  to  him 
that  he  had  never  before  encountered  a  woman 
apparently  so  indifferent  to  him;  for  indifference 
was  not  the  sentiment  which  he  was  wont  to  excite. 
He  remembered,  too,  his  hasty  retreat  from  the 
table,  lest  her  delicacy  be  offended  if  his  garments 


146  THE  JUGGLER. 

were  descanted  upon  in  her  presence.  "Am  I 
going  to  persuade  myself  that  I  am  in  love  with 
this  rural  Napoleon  in  petticoats?  "  he  asked  him- 
self  scornfully.  Then  he  argued  that  it  was 
merely  because  he  was  not  used  to  such  critical 
scrutiny  of  his  vestments  except  by  his  tailor. 
"All  the  same,  I  got  out  of  there  before  the  lady 
KM  I  tin -i nia  appeared."  He  thus  took  as  dispas 
sionate  note  of  the  fact  as  if  he  were  discussing 
the  state  of  mind  of  another  person.  "I  might 
meet  a  worse  fate.  She  could  be  trusted  to  keep 
me  extremely  straight  from  now  till  the  Judgment 
Day.  She  is  so  pretty  —  that  —  if  she  were  a  trifle 
softer  —  a  trifle  different,  it  wouldn't  be  such  hard 
lines  to  make  love  to  her." 

Perhaps  it  did  not  seem  such  "  hard  lines  "  when 
she  suddenly  came  out  of  the  house,  later  in  the 
day;  for  as  he  glanced  up  the  slope  and  beheld 
her,  he  rose  promptly  and  went  to  meet  her. 

It  was  a  tortuous  way  up  the  slope ;  the  outcrop 
ping  ledges  here  and  there  projected  so  heavily 
that  it  was  easier  to  skirt  around  than  to  climb 
over  them.  Brambles  grew  in  shaggy  patches; 
trees  intervened;  more  than  once,  gnarled  roots, 
struck  but  half  in  the  ground,  the  bole  rising  at  a 
sharp  angle  with  the  incline,  threw  him  out  of  the 
line  of  a  direct  approach.  He  saw,  in  drawing 
near,  that  he  was  as  yet  unperceived,  as  she  made 
her  way  slowly  along  the  road.  Her  wonderful 
eyes  were  fixed  meditatively,  softly,  upon  the  blue 
mountains  beyond  the  Cove,  showing  through  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  147 

gap  of  the  nearer  purple  ranges.  Her  lips  had 
a  drooping  curve.  The  golden  glimmers  of  her 
brown  hair,  rising  in  dense  fairness  above  her 
white  brow,  had  never  seemed  to  him  so  distinct. 
She  carried  her  pink  sunbonnet  in  her  hand;  the 
large  loose  curls  floated  on  the  shoulders  of  her 
calico  dress.  It  was  of  a  sleazy  texture,  and  the 
skirt  fell  in  starchless  folds  from  a  short  waist  to 
the  tops  of  her  low-cut  shoes.  The  color  was  a 
rose  pink,  and  on  it  was  scattered  a  pattern  of 
great  roses  of  the  darkest  red  hue,  and  she  looked 
as  fantastic  as  if  she  were  attired  for  a  fancy-dress 
ball.  Somehow,  this  accorded  better  with  his 
humor  than  the  sombre  homespun  attire  which  the 
mountain  women  as  a  rule  affected.  Her  costume, 
regarded  as  a  fad,  did  not  so  diminish  her  beauty. 
He  could  judge  better  of  it,  as  he  paused,  still 
unperceived  because  of  the  intervening  brambles, 
hardly  ten  feet  from  her.  She  looked  like  some 
old  picture,  as,  swinging  the  bonnet  by  one  string, 
she  stood  still  for  a  moment,  with  an  intent  ex 
pression  in  her  lovely  eyes. 

"Ef  he  speaks  so  agin,"  she  said  slowly,  "ef  he 
speaks  so  agin  afore  them  all,  I  dunno  how  I  kin 
abide  it." 

There  was  a  look  of  pain  on  her  face  which,  how 
ever,  did  not  promise  tears.  He  realized  that 
tears  were  scarce  with  her  and  came  hard.  It  was 
the  look  of  one  whose  heart  is  pierced,  and  whose 
pride  is  bent,  and  whose  endurance  flags.  Then, 
with  an  access  of  resolution  visible  in  her  soft  face, 


148  THE  JUGGLER. 

she   suddenly    moved   onward,    and    the   swaying 
sprays  of  the  brambles  painted  the  picture  out. 

He  had  hardly  time  to  take  stock  of  his  impres 
sions,  or  note  his  own  surprise,  or  marvel  of  what 
or  of  whom  she  spoke,  when  Mrs.  Sims  issued, 
waddling,  from  the  house.  She  perceived  him 
readily  enough,  having  him  in  mind,  perhaps,  and 
called  to  him  to  hurry  up,  "for  we-uns  air  all 
goin'  ter  meetin'  over  yander  at  the  church-house, 
whar  ye  gin  that  show  o'  yourn,"  displaying  a  fat 
dimply  smile  too  jolly  for  the  occasion,  and  all  un 
meet  to  companion  the  Sabbath-day  expression  on 
the  sour  visage  of  old  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  who  was 
shuffling  out  with  high  shoulders  and  hollow  chest 
and  bent  knees  to  join  the  family  procession. 

Lucien  Royce  welcomed  the  summons  with  the 
half -bewildered  delight  of  one  unexpectedly  rescued 
from  the  extremest  griefs  of  ennui.  His  first  in 
stinct  was  to  run  and  dress.  Then  remembering 
that  he  wore  the  best  clothes  he  had,  he  composed 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  he  was  in  the  fash 
ion  as  it  prevailed  here.  He  was  consoled,  too,  as 
he  strolled  along  beside  Mrs.  Sims,  for  the  lack  of 
a  younger  companion,  by  reflecting  that  he  wanted 
to  make  no  mischief  among  any  possible  lovers  of 
Euphemia,  which  his  public  appearance  walking 
witli  her  to  church  was  well  calculated  to  do. 

"I  think  I  am  safe  with  Mrs.  Sims,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "I  suppose  nobody  is  in  love  with  her, 
—  not  even  old  Tubal  Cain,  whatever  he  may  once 
have  been." 


THE  JUGGLER.  149 

He  cast  a  glance  at  the  lean  and  active  partner 
of  Mrs.  Sims's  joys  and  sorrows,  forging  along  at 
a  brisk  pace  which  was  certain  to  land  him  in 
church  before  the  rest  of  the  household  had  achieved 
half  the  distance. 


VI. 

THE  Cove  was  no  longer  silent.  Akin  to  the 
cadence  of  the  echo,  one  with  the  ethereal  essence 
of  the  sighing  and  lapsing  of  the  mountain  stream, 
the  distant  choiring  of  the  congregation  in  the 
unseen  "  church-house  "  seemed  some  indigenous 
voice  of  the  wilderness,  so  sylvan,  so  plaintive,  so 
replete  with  subtle  solemn  intimations,  was  the 
sound.  The  juggler  did  not  at  once  distinguish  it. 
Then  it  came  anew  with  more  definite  meaning, 
and  it  smote  upon  his  quivering,  Ulcerated  sensi 
bilities.  Not  that  in  the  sophisticated  life  which 
he  had  quitted  he  had  valued  the  Sunday  sermons, 
or  cared  for  the  house  of  the  Lord,  save  architec 
turally  ;  but  he  had  loved  the  Sunday  singing ;  the 
great  swelling  reverberations  of  the  organ  were 
wont  to  stir  his  very  heartstrings;  and  while  he 
appreciated  the  scope  and  the  worth  of  the  standard 
compositions  of  sacred  music,  he  was  always  keen 
and  critically  alert  to  hear  any  new  thing,  with 
due  allowance  for  the  lower  level.  And  should 
the  consecrated  hour  prove  heavy  to  his  spirits,  did 
not  his  seat  near  the  door,  his  hat  at  hand,  his 
quick,  noiseless,  deft  step,  provide  amply  for  his 
retreat?  With  the  realization  of  the  loss  of  his 
life,  his  home,  poignantly  renewed  by  the  vibra- 


THE  JUGGLER.  151 

tions  of  the  long,  sustained,  psalmodic  tones,  he 
would  fain  have  turned  back  now  ;  but  the  idea  of 
the  tedious  solitude  on  the  ledge  of  the  river-bank, 
his  heavy  thoughts,  the  dread  of  the  remonstrances 
and  urgency  of  Mrs.  Sims,  constrained  him.  So 
he  listened  to  the  solemn  rise  and  fall  of  the  hymn 
ing  in  the  Cove,  rising  and  falling  with  the  wind, 
with  a  new  sense  of  aghast  trouble  fixed  upon  him, 
as  if  some  spectral  thing  had  revealed  itself  in  the 
wilderness  as  he  walked  unwary. 

Now  and  then,  as  they  wended  along  amongst 
the  great  boles  of  the  trees,  with  a  narrow  brook 
splashing  and  foaming  in  the  deep  rocky  gully  at 
one  side  of  the  red  clay  road,  or  losing  itself  in 
the  densities  of  the  laurel  pressing  so  close  on 
either  hand,  he  caught  in  sudden  turns  through 
gaps  in  the  foliage  glimpses  of  the  winding  way 
further  on  and  of  Euphemia's  rose-hued  dress. 
She  was  making  but  indifferent  speed,  despite  the 
nimbleness  of  those  "  stout  little  brogans "  that 
could  cover  the  ground  so  fast  when  the  will  nerved 
them.  Once  he  saw  her  standing  in  an  open  space 
and  looking  over  the  levels  of  the  Cove  below. 
Her  pink  bonnet  was  on  her  head  now,  its  flaring 
brim  pushed  far  back,  and  revealing  that  Pompa 
dour-like  effect  of  her  fair  hair  which  he  so  much 
admired,  and  here  and  there  the  large  loose  curls 
straying  on  her  shoulders.  With  the  short  waist 
of  her  dress,  and  the  long,  straight,  limp  skirt,  the 
picture-like  suggestion  was  so  complete  that  he  had 
not  one  throb  of  that  repulsion  which  ignorance 


152  THE  JUGGLER. 

and  coarse  surroundings  occasioned  his  dilettante 
exactingness.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  kindling 
eye,  a  new  and  alert  interest.  He  began  to  seek 
to  divine  her  mental  processes.  Why  was  she 
so  reluctant  ?  why  did  she  hesitate  ?  It  could  not 
be  that  the  prospect  of  the  dull  droning  of  the 
preacher  affrighted  her ;  she  was  not  wont  to  seek 
her  ease,  and  he  knew  instinctively  that  her  Spar 
tan  endurance  would  enable  her  to  listen  as  long 
as  the  longest-winded  of  the  saints  could  hold 
forth.  Were  her  lips  moving  ?  He  could  not  be 
sure  at  the  distance.  Was  she  saying  once  more, 
44  Ef  he  speaks  so  agin  afore  'em  all,  I  dunno  how 
I  kin  abide  it "  ? 

He  wondered  who  "he"  coidd  be  —  not  Jack 
Ormsby,  he  was  very  sure.  He  wondered  how 
Euphemia  should  have  mustered  the  feeling  to 
care.  She  seemed  to  him  not  complex,  like  other 
women.  Her  character  was  built  of  two  elements, 
kindred  and  of  the  nature  of  complement  one  to 
the  other,  —  pride  and  the  love  of  power,  the  de 
sire  to  rule.  He  had  thought  her  possessed  of  as 
much  coquetry  at  eighteen  as  her  grandmother 
might  have  at  eighty-five.  And  who  was  this 
"  he  "  who  brought  that  look  of  sweet  solicitude, 
almost  a  quiver,  to  her  lips  ? 

"I  should  like  to  knock  '  him  '  down,"  he  said 
to  himself,  humoring  the  theory  of  his  pretended 
infatuation. 

She  turned  suddenly,  holding  up  her  head  with 
a  look  of  determination,  and  went  on  as  before. 


THE  JUGGLER.  153 

Far  afield  might  Pride  seem,  to  be  sure,  in  the 
humble  ways  of  these  few  settlers  in  the  wilderness, 
yet  here  he  was  in  full  panoply,  to  walk,  almost  vis 
ibly,  alongside  the  simple  mountain  maiden,  to 
enter  even  the  church  with  her,  and  to  take  his 
seat  beside  her  on  one  of  the  rude  benches,  already 
crowded. 

Her  mother  and  the  juggler  were  later  still. 
The  diurnal  aspect  of  the  little  gray  uupainted 
building  in  the  midst  of  the  green  shadows  of  the 
great  forests,  with  the  widespreading  boughs  of 
the  trees  interlacing  above  its  roof,  was  not  famil 
iar  to  Royce,  who  had  been  here  only  after  dark 
on  the  evening  of  his  memorable  entertainment. 
The  array  of  yokes  of  oxen,  of  wagons,  of  saddle- 
horses  hitched  to  the  trees,  had  been  noisily  invisi 
ble  in  the  blackness,  on  that  occasion.  The  group 
of  youths  hanging  about  the  sacred  edifice  outside 
had  a  prototype  in  the  Sunday  curbstone  gather 
ings  everywhere,  and  he  at  once  identified  the  spe 
cies.  A  vague  haze  of  dust  pervaded  the  interior ; 
it  gave  a  certain  aspect  of  unreality  to  the  ranks 
of  intent  figures  on  the  benches,  as  if  they  were 
of  the  immaterial  populace  of  dreams.  A  slant  of 
the  rich-huecl  sunlight  fell  athwart  the  room  in  a 
broad  bar  of  a  dully  glamourous  effect,  showing 
a  thousand  shifting  motes  floating  in  the  ethereal 
medium.  A  kindred  tint  glowed  in  the  folds  of 
a  yellow  bandanna  handkerchief  swinging  from 
one  of  the  dark  brown  beams,  and  served  to  ad 
vertise  its  loss  by  some  worshiper  at  the  last  meet- 


154  THE  JUGGLER. 

ing.  Not  so  cheerful  was  another  waif  from  past 
congregations,  —  a  baby's  white  knitted  woolen 
hood  ;  it  looked  like  the  scalp  of  this  shorn  lamb  of 
the  flock,  and  was  vaguely  suggestive  of  prowling 
wolves.  On  the  platform  were  four  preachers 
who  were  participating  in  the  exercises  of  the  day. 
Two  of  muscular  and  massive  form  had  an  agricul 
tural  aspect  rather  than  that  of  laborers  in  a  spirit 
ual  vineyard,  and  were  clad  in  brown  jeans  with 
rough,  muddy  cowhide  boots ;  they  were  dog 
matic  of  countenance,  and  evidently  well  fed  and 
pampered  to  the  verge  of  arrogance ;  they  sat  tilted 
back  in  their  splint-bottomed  chairs,  chewing  hard 
on  their  quids  of  tobacco,  and  wearing  a  certain 
easy,  capable,  confident  mien  as  of  an  assurance  of 
heavenly  matters  and  a  burly  enjoyment  of  worldly 
prominence.  They  listened  to  a  hymn  which  the 
third  —  whom  Royce  recognized  as  old  Parson 
Greenought  —  was  "  lining  out,"  as  he  stood  at  the 
table,  with  a  kind  of  corroborative  air  as  became 
past  masters  in  all  spiritual  craft.  They  had  trav 
eled  the  road  their  colleague  sought  to  point  out  in 
metre,  and  were  not  to  be  surprised  at  any  of  its 
long  -  ago  -  surmounted  obstacles.  At  the  end  of 
every  couplet,  each  of  them,  while  still  seated,  burst 
into  song  with  such  patent  disregard  of  the  pitch 
of  the  other,  the  whole  congregation  blaring  after, 
that  the  juggler  quaked  and  winced  as  he  sat 
among  the  men,  —  the  women  being  carefully 
segregated  on  the  other  side  of  the  church,  —  and 
had  much  ado  to  set  his  teeth  and  avoid  wry  faces. 


THE  JUGGLER.  155 

The  fourth  minister  was  not  singing.  He  sat  with 
his  head  bowed  in  his  hand,  his  elbow  supported 
by  the  arm  of  his  chair,  as  if  lost  in  silent  prayer. 
The  juggler  watched  his  every  motion  as  for 
deliverance  from  the  surging  waves  of  sound,  per 
meated  with  that  rancorous  independence  of  uni 
son,  which  floated  around  him,  for  he  divined  that 
this  was  the  orator  of  the  day.  This  young  man 
lifted  his  face  expectantly  after  a  time,  —  a  keen, 
thin,  pale  face,  with  black  hair  and  dark  gray  eyes, 
and  an  absorbed  ascetic  expression.  But  Parson 
Greenought  still  "  lined  out  "  the  sacred  poetry, 
which  was  hobbling  as  to  metre,  and  often  without 
connection  and  bereft  of  meaning ;  and  with  a  wide 
opening  of  the  mouth  and  a  toss  of  the  head,  the 
two  musically  disposed  pastors  resolutely  led  the 
singing,  and  the  congregation  chorused  tumultu- 
ously.  It  was  in  some  sort  discipline  for  Brother 
Absalom  Tynes  to  be  obliged  to  sit  in  silence  and 
wait  while  stanza  followed  stanza  and  theme  was 
added  to  theme  in  the  multifarious  petition  psal- 
modically  preferred.  The  words  were  on  his  lips  ; 
his  heart  burned  for  utterance  ;  he  quivered  with 
the  very  thought  of  his  pent-up  message.  He  was 
of  that  class  of  young  preachers  who  have  gone 
into  the  vineyard  early,  and  with  a  determination 
to  convert  the  world  single-handed.  Nothing  but 
time  and  Satan  can  moderate  their  enthusiasms  ; 
but  time  and  Satan  may  be  trusted.  Too  much 
zeal,  —  misdirected,  young,  unseemly,  foolish,  — 
Brother  Tynes  had  been  given  to  understand,  was 


156  THE  JUGGLER. 

his  great  fault,  his  besetting  sin ;  it  would  do 
more  harm  than  good,  and  he  had  been  admon 
ished  to  pray  against  it.  Perhaps  the  exhibition 
of  it  grated  on  his  elder  confreres  as  an  uniuten. 
tional  rebuke,  beneath  which  they  secretly  smarted, 
remembering  a  time  long  ago  —  but  of  short  du 
ration,  it  may  be  —  when  they  too  had  been  fired 
with  wild  enthusiasm  and  were  full  of  mad  pro 
jects,  and  went  about  turning  every  stone  and  wea 
rying  even  the  godly  with  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
So,  to  use  the  phrase  of  the  politicians,  they 
"  paired  off "  with  Satan,  as  it  were ;  forgetting 
that  zeal  is  like  gunpowder,  once  damped,  forever 
damaged,  and  that  their  own  had  caught  no  spark 
from  any  chance  contiguous  fire  this  many  a  long 
day. 

That  singing  praises  to  the  Lord  should  be  a 
means  of  "  putting  down  "  Brother  Tynes  savors 
of  the  incongruous ;  but  few  human  motives  are 
less  complex  than  those  which  animated  Parson 
Greenought  as  he  combined  the  edification  of  the 
congregation,  the  melody  of  worship,  and  the 
reduction  of  the  pride  of  the  pulpit  orator,  whose 
fame  already  extended  beyond  Etowah,  and  even 
to  Tanglefoot  Cove.  The  science  of  "  putting 
down  "  any  available  subject  is  capable  of  utilizing 
and  amalgamating  unpromising  elements,  and  as 
Parson  Greenought  cast  up  his  eyes  while  he  sang, 
and  preserved  a  certain  sanctimonious  swaying  of 
the  body  to  and  fro  with  the  rhythm  of  the  hymn 
he  "lined  out,"  the  triumph  of  " simultaning " 


THE  JUGGLER.  157 

these  several  discordant  mental  processes  cost  him 
no  conscious  effort  and  scarcely  a  realized  impulse. 
The  juggler  looked  about  him  with  a  sort  of 
averse  curiosity ;  the  traits  of  ignorant  people 
appealed  in  no  respect  to  his  somewhat  finical  pre 
possessions.  Among  his  various  knacks  and  talents 
was  no  pictorial  facility,  nor  the  perception  of  the 
picturesque  as  a  mental  attitude.  He  resented  the 
assumption  of  special  piety  in  the  postures  and 
facial  expression  here  and  there  noticeable  in  the 
congregation ;  he  could  have  singled  out  those 
religionists  whom  he  fancied  thus  vying  with  one 
another.  One  broad-shouldered  and  stalwart  young 
man  was  given  to  particularly  conspicuous  demon 
strations  of  godliness,  exemplified  chiefly  in  sudden 
startling  "A-a-a-mens"  sonorously  interpolated 
into  the  reading,  a  breathy,  raucous  blare  of  song 
as  he  lifted  up  his  voice,  —  inexpressibly  off  the 
key,  —  and  a  sanctimonious  awkward  pose  of  the 
head  with  half -shut  eyes.  The  juggler  could  have 
trounced  this  saint  with  hearty  good  will,  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  the  man  took  pleasure  in 
showing  how  religious  he  was !  Only  Mrs.  Sims 
exhibited  no  outward  token  of  her  happy  estate  as 
a  "  perfesser,"  but  her  salvation  was  considered  a 
very  doubtful  matter,  and  even  that  she  had  "  found 
peace  "  problematical,  since  she  did  not  believe  in 
special  judgments  alighting  on  the  mistaken  or  the 
unconverted,  and  had  surmised  that  the  Lord  would 
find  out  a  way  to  excuse  "  them  that  had  set  on 
the  mourners'  bench  "  in  vain.  "  Ef  you  hev  jes' 


158  THE  JUGGLER. 

started  out,"  she  would  say  to  those  unfortunate 
wights  whom  the  members  were  allowed  to  per 
secute  with  advice  and  exhortation  as  they  cowered 
before  the  throne  of  grace,  "  don't  you  be  'feard. 
The  Lord  will  meet  ye  more  'n  halfway.  Ef  ye 
don't  see  him,  't  ain't  because  he  ain't  thar.  Jes' 
start  out.  That 's  all !  " 

But  Parson  Greenought  had  warned  her  to  for 
bear  these  promissory  pledges  of  so  easy  a  salva 
tion.  For  he  wanted  sinners  all  to  gaze  on  that 
hike  of  brimstone  and  fire  which  none  but  him 
could  so  successfully  navigate ;  and  now  and  again 
he  had  his  triumph  when  some  wretch  in  agonies 
of  terror  would  screech  out  that  he  or  she  was  "  so 
happy !  so  happy  !  "  since  to  be  "  happy  "  by  main 
force,  so  to  speak,  was  the  alternative  he  offered 
to  the  prospect  of  weltering  there  forever.  So 
Jane  Ann  Sims  held  her  peace,  and  preserved  a 
fat  and  placid  solemnity  of  countenance,  and  sang 
aloud  in  such  wheezy  audacity  that  the  juggler 
could  hear  her  breathe  across  the  church. 

Only  one  countenance  was  doubtful,  wistful,  its 
muscles  not  adjusted  to  the  discerning  gaze  of  the 
congregation.  Euphemia  Sims  sat  near  a  window, 
the  tempered  light  on  the  soft  contours  of  her  face. 
The  flaring  pink  sunbonnet  framed  the  rising 
mass  of  fair  hair  ;  she  gazed  absently  down  at  the 
floor ;  her  delicate  young  shoulders  were  outlined 
upon  the  masses  of  green  leaves  fluttering  above 
the  sill  hard  by.  Her  look  so  riveted  Royce's 
attention  that  he  sought  to  decipher  it.  What 


THE  JUGGLER.  159 

did  she  fear  ?  There  was  a  suggestion  of  wounded 
pride,  most  appealing  in  its  incongruity  with  her 
normal  calm,  or  hardness,  or  unresponsiveness,  or 
whatever  he  might  choose  to  call  the  nullity  of 
that  habitual  untranslated  expression.  Why  was 
she  so  grave,  so  sad?  The  sudden  lifting  of  her 
long  lashes  and  the  intent  fixing  of  her  eyes  di 
rected  his  attention  to  the  pulpit,  and  there  he 
perceived  that  Brother  Tynes  was  standing  at  last, 
beginning  to  elucidate  his  text.  The  juggler, 
relieved  of  the  torture  of  the  singing,  braced  his 
nerves  for  the  torture  of  the  sermon.  Here  he 
might  have  had  a  recourse  in  his  facility  of  ab 
stracting  his  mind.  He  had  sat  through  many  a 
sermon  in  this  unreceptive  state.  He  had  cast 
up  accounts,  preserving  a  duality  of  identity  in 
the  secular  activity  of  his  mental  faculties  and  the 
sabbatical  decorum  of  his  face  and  listening  atti 
tude.  Between  firstly  and  secondly  he  had  once 
chased  down  three  vagrant  cents,  —  an  error  which 
had  cost  him  fifteen  hours  of  labor  out  of  regular 
working  time,  —  without  which  he  could  not  bal 
ance  his  accounts.  Once  —  it  was  during  the 
Christmas  holidays  —  he  had  utilized  the  perora 
tion  of  a  long  and  searching  discourse  by  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese  to  evolve  certain  new  and 
effective  figures  for  the  german  which  he  was  to 
lead  the  next  evening,  and  he  had  always  esteemed 
that  hour  a  most  fruitful  occasion.  And  again, 
during  a  special  sermon,  on  foreign  missions,  he 
evolved  a  little  melody,  hardly  more  than  a  repe- 


160  THE  JUGGLER. 

titious  phrase,  forever  turning  and  coiling  and 
doubling  on  itself,  to  which  he  adapted  the  art 
fully  repetitious  words  of  a  dainty  chansonnette 
of  a  celebrated  French  poet  with  such  skill  and 
delicate  inspiration  of  fitness  that  he  often  sang  it 
afterward  in  choice  musical  circles  to  unbounded 
applause.  He  had  sat  under  the  sound  of  the 
gospel  all  his  life,  and  he  was  as  thorough  a  pagan 
as  any  savage.  But  alack !  his  was  not  the  only 
deaf  ear  in  those  congregations  —  more 's  the  pity  ! 
and  while  we  send  missionaries  to  China  and  the 
slums  of  our  own  great  cities,  our  civilized  heathen 
of  the  upper  classes  are  out  of  reach. 

It  was  perhaps  because  he  now  had  no  thought 
that  would  let  him  be  friends  with  it  —  no  sedu 
lously  conserved  accounts,  no  bizarreries  of  the 
german  to  devise,  no  inspiration  of  melody  in  mind 
(the  psalmody  of  Etowah  Cove  was  enough  to 
strike  the  music  In  him  dumb  for  evermore)  — 
that  he  followed  the  direction  of  Euphemia's  gaze 
and  composed  himself  to  listen. 

He  encountered  a  sudden  and  absolute  surprise. 
The  sermon  was  one  of  those  examples  of  a  fiery 
natural  eloquence  which  sometimes  serve  to  show 
to  the  postulant  of  culture  how  endowment  may 
begin  at  the  point  where  training  leaves  off.  The 
rapt  silence  of  Brother  Tynes's  audience  and  their 
kindling  faces  attested  the  reciprocal  fervors  of 
his  enthusiasms.  He  was  awkward  and  unlettered, 
with  uncouth  gestures  and  an  uncultivated  voice, 
but  there  burned  like  a  white  fire  in  his  pale,  thin 


THE  JUGGLER.  161 

face  a  faith,  an  adoration,  an  exultation,  which 
transfigured  it.  He  had  a  fine  and  lofty  ideal  in 
the  midst  of  the  contortions  of  his  ignorance, 
which  he  called  doctrines,  and  presently  he  spoke 
only  and  in  proteanwise  of  the  mystery  and  the 
mercy  of  Redeeming  Love.  The  idea  of  reward, 
of  punishment,  of  the  hope  of  heaven  and  the  fear 
of  hell,  did  not  seem  to  enter  into  his  scheme  of 
salvation.  He  sought  to  grasp  the  realization  of 
an  infinite  sacrificial  love,  and  he  adjured  his 
people  to  fall  on  their  faces,  with  their  faces  in 
the  dust,  before  the  sacred  marvel  of  the  Atone 
ment.  The  text  "  He  first  loved  us  "  rang  out 
again  and  again  like  a  clarion  call.  Its  simple 
cogency  seemed  to  need  no  argument.  How  could 
the  politic  and  mercenary  motives  of  securing 
exemption  from  pain  or  the  purchase  of  pleasure 
enter  herein  ?  That  phase  of  striking  a  fair  bar 
gain,  so  controlling  to  sordid  human  nature,  was 
for  the  moment  preposterous.  Many  a  one  of  his 
simple  hearers  knew  the  joy  of  unrequited  labor 
for  love's  sweet  sake,  of  self  -  denial,  of  being 
hungry  or  tired  or  cold,  in  sacrificial  content. 
More  than  one  mother  could  hardly  have  given  a 
practical  reason  why  the  crippled  child  or  the  ailing 
one  should  be  the  dearest,  when  its  nurture  could 
rouse  no  expectation  that  it  might  live  to  work  for 
her  sake.  More  than  one  gray-haired  son  loved 
and  honored  the  paralytic  troublous  old  dotard  in 
the  warmest  corner  of  the  fireside  all  the  more  for 
his  helplessness  and  the  toil  for  his  sake.  Love 


162  THE  JUGGLER. 

makes  duty  dear.  Love  makes  service  light.  In 
some  one  phase  or  other  they  all  knew  that  love 
is  for  love's  own  sake. 

And  this  was  all  that  he  demanded  in  the  great 
prophetic  name  of  Christ  even  from  the  dread 
heights  of  Calvary,  "  My  son,  give  me  thine  heart." 

Now  and  again  sobs  punctuated  the  discourse. 
Before  there  was  any  call  for  mourners  to  ap 
proach  the  bench,  an  old  white-headed  man,  who 
had  resisted  many  an  appeal  to  his  fears  on  behalf 
of  his  soul,  rose  and  shambled  forward ;  others 
silently  joined  him  where  he  sat  looking  at  them 
over  his  shoulder,  very  conscious,  a  trifle  t-n  M 
fallen,  if  not  ashamed,  thus  to  be  forced  from  the 
stanch  defenses  which  he  had  defiantly  held  through 
many  a  siege.  The  assisting  ministers  occasionally 
cleared  their  throats  and  shifted  their  crossed  legs, 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  might  be 
interpreted  as  deprecation  of  the  factitious  excite 
ments  of  a  sensational  sermon. 

Euphemia  Sims  hearkened  with  a  face  of  perfect 
decorum  and  superficial  receptiveness.  In  her 
heart,  rather  than  in  her  mind,  she  missed  the  true 
interpretation  of  the  discourse.  It  did  not  seem  to 
her  so  wonderful  that  she  should  be  of  a  degree  of 
importance  to  merit  salvation.  To  be  sure,  in  the 
sense  of  sharing  original  sin  she  supposed  she  was 
a  sinner,  —  born  so.  But  her  life  was  ordered  on 
a  line  of  rectitude.  Who  kept  so  clean  a  house, 
who  wove  and  milked  and  cooked  and  sewed  so 
diligently,  as  she  ?  Who  led  for  years  the  spelling- 


THE  JUGGLER.  163 

class  In  this  very  house,  whose  brown  walls  might 
tell  of  her  orthographic  triumphs  ?  And  she  had 
got  her  religion,  too,  and  had  even  shouted  one 
day,  albeit  a  quavering,  half-hearted  hosanna.  So 
she  looked  on  with  a  calm  post-graduate  manner 
at  the  gathering  penitents  at  the  mourners'  bench. 
She  too  had  passed  through  the  preliminary  stages 
of  spiritual  culture,  and  had  taken  her  degree. 

The  juggler,  as  he  listened,  repeatedly  felt  that 
cold  thrill  which  he  was  wont  to  associate  with  a 
certain  effect  on  his  critical  faculties.  Only  a  high 
degree  of  excellence  in  whatever  line  appealing  to 
them  was  capable  of  eliciting  it.  He  had  experi 
enced  it  in  this  measure  hitherto  only  in  the  plea 
surable  suspense  and  excitement,  so  intense  as  to 
be  almost  pain,  in  the  dress  circle  of  some  crowded 
play-house,  at  the  triumphant  moment  of  a  master 
piece  in  the  science  of  histrionism. 

The  orator  was  approaching  his  climax.  To  so 
great  a  height  had  he  risen  that  it  seemed  as  if  his 
utmost  power  could  not  reach  beyond  ;  every  mo 
ment  tingled  with  the  expectation  that  the  next 
word  must  herald  a  collapse,  when,  suddenly  throw 
ing  himself  on  his  knees,  he  cried,  "  Lead  us  in 
prayer,  Brother  Haines,  —  lead  us  in  prayer  to 
the  foot  of  the  cross  !  " 

There  was  a  startled  movement  among  his  col 
leagues  of  the  pulpit,  charged  with  the  prosaic  sug 
gestion  that  if  they  could  they  would  deny  Brother 
Haines  —  apparently  a  layman  and  seated  among 
the  congregation  —  the  opportunity  of  thus  pub- 


164  THE  JUGGLKR. 

licly  approaching  the  throne  of  grace  ;  but  the 
people  already  had  crowded  upon  their  knees,  and 
a  suppliant  voice,  pitched  on  a  different  key,  rose 
into  the  stillness. 

Euphemia  Sims  sat  for  a  moment  as  if  she  were 
turned  to  stone.  A  light  both  of  pain  and  of 
anger  was  in  her  eyes.  Her  lips  were  stern  and 
compressed.  She  felt  her  blood  beating  hard  in 
her  temples.  Then  she  remembered  the  exacting 
decorums  of  the  exercise,  gathered  her  trim  pink 
skirts  about  her,  softly  knelt  down,  and  Pride 
knelt  down  beside  her. 

She  hardly  heard  the  voice  of  Brother  Owen 
Haines  at  first,  as  she  put  her  dimpled  elbows  on 
the  hard  bench  and  held  her  head  between  her 
hands,  so  tumultuous  were  the  surging  pulses  of 
humiliation  and  fear,  and  of  love,  too,  in  a  way. 
And  then  it  asserted  itself  upon  her  senses,  although 
she  was  conscious  first  merely  of  tones,  rich,  mel 
low,  of  delicate  modulations  and  lingering  vibra 
tions,  —  differing  infinitely  from  the  clear,  incisive, 
somewhat  harsh  utterances  of  the  preacher ;  but  at 
last  words  came  gradually  to  her  comprehension. 

Commonplace  words  enough,  to  be  sure,  to  excite 
so  poignant  a  torture  of  agonized  expectation  in 
that  heart,  beating  as  one  with  Pride's,  but  pre 
sently  too  oft  repeated.  Now  and  again  a  rau 
cously  cleared  throat  amongst  the  row  of  kneeling 
ministers  told  of  a  nervous  stress  of  anxiety  as  to 
these  verbal  stumblings  and  inadequacies.  Some 
times  a  sentence  was  definitely  broken,  subject  and 


THE   JUGGLER.  165 

predicate  hopelessly  disjointed.  Sometimes  a  clause 
barely  suggested  the  thought  in  the  brain,  an  irre 
mediable  solution  of  continuity  in  its  expression. 
More  than  once  occurred  a  painful  pause,  in  which 
the  heads  of  certain  newly  regenerate  .sinners, 
easily  falling  again  under  mundane  influences  or 
the  control  of  Satan,  turned  alertly  from  the 
prayerful  attitudes  still  conserved  by  their  bodies 
to  covertly  survey  the  spellbound  suppliant.  Like 
unto  these  was  the  juggler.  He  had,  on  the  first 
summons  to  prayer,  decorously  assumed  that  half- 
crouching  posture  common  to  devotionally  disposed 
men,  which  intimates  to  the  surrounding  spectators 
the  fact  of  a  certain  polite  subduement  of  mind 
and  body  to  divine  worship.  Then,  remembering 
suddenly  the  character  of  mountaineer  which  he 
designed  to  assimilate,  he  plumped  down  on  his 
knees  —  for  the  first  time  in  many  a  long  day  — 
like  the  rest.  And  if  in  the  ensuing  excitements 
his  mind  did  not  match  his  lowly  attitude,  the 
juggler  is  not  the  only  man  who  has  ever  been  upon 
his  knees  with  no  prayer  in  his  heart.  Taking 
license  from  the  stir  near  at  hand,  he  too  shifted 
his  posture  that  his  furtive  glance  might  command 
a  view  of  the  man  thus  deputed  to  pray. 

The  suppliant  was  among  the  congregation,  but 
his  face,  as  he  knelt  in  an  open  space  near  the  pul 
pit,  was  irradiated  by  the  slant  of  the  sunset  glow. 
Beheld  above  the  benches  and  the  kneeling  congre 
gation,  it  had  a  singularly  detached  effect,  —  it 
was  like  the  painting  of  a  head  ;  all  else  was  can- 


166  THE  JUGGLER. 

celed.  For  a  moment,  the  juggler,  his  eyes  grow 
ing  intent  and  grave  as  he  gazed,  could  not  account 
for  a  sense  of  familiarity  with  it,  of  having  seen  it 
often  before.  Then,  with  a  reminiscence  of  dim 
religious  surroundings,  of  tempered  radiance  stream 
ing  through  translucent  mediums,  of  flecks  of  deep 
rich  tints,  —  red  and  blue  and  purple  and  amber, 
always  with  emitted  undertones  of  light,  —  he 
realized  its  association  with  church  windows,  with 
the  heights  of  clerestory  twilight,  with  Catherine- 
wheels  luminous  in  dark  transepts,  with  trifoliated 
symbols  in  chancel  arches.  It  might  have  seemed, 
the  idealizing  glamour  of  the  sunset  in  the  rapt 
devotional  expression,  a  study  for  a  seraph's  face ; 
in  truth,  one  could  hardly  desire  a  more  fitting  pre 
sentment  of  the  angelic  type.  The  fair  hair,  not 
gold  even  under  the  heightening  sunlight,  lay  in 
gentle  infantile  curves  along  the  broad  forehead  ; 
as  it  fell  to  the  shoulder  it  showed  tendencies  to 
heavy  undulations  that  were  scarcely  curls  or  ring 
lets,  and  that  grew  diaphanous  and  cloudy  toward 
their  fibrous  verges.  The  large  languid  blue  eyes 
had  long  dark  lashes,  and  the  pathetic  fervors,  the 
adoration,  the  entreaty  of  their  expression,  moved 
sundry  covert  glances  to  a  twinkle  of  laughter ; 
for  this  surpassed  in  some  humorous  sort  the  liberal 
limits  assigned  to  the  outward  show  of  devotion  in 
Etowah  Cove.  None  of  its  other  denizens  ever 
looked  like  that,  saint  or  sinner  !  It  was  a  subtle 
and  complex  expression,  and,  being  incomprehensi 
ble,  it  struck  most  of  the  observers  as  simply  funny. 


THE  JUGGLER.  167 

The  high  cheekbones  and  the  pale  unrounded 
cheek  might  have  impressed  an  artist  as  somewhat 
too  attenuated  of  contour  to  suggest  the  enjoyment 
of  the  eternal  bliss  of  heaven,  but  they  added  to 
the  extreme  spirituality  of  the  effect  of  the  eyes, 
and  with  the  congruous  but  delicate  irregular  nose 
and  full  lips  made  the  face  unusual  and  individ 
ual. 

An  odd  face  for  the  butt  of  a  coarse  joke.  The 
congregation,  still  kneeling,  stirred  with  a  ripple 
of  silent  laughter.  Here  and  there,  as  the  glances 
of  curious  worshipers,  looking  furtively  over  the 
shoulder,  encountered  one  another,  a  gleam  of  caus 
tic  comment  or  deprecating  amusement  was  ex 
changed  ;  and  once  a  newly  caught  saint,  not  yet 
having  wholly  dropped  the  manners  and  quirks  of 
the  Old  Man,  from  force  of  habit  winked,  wrinkled 
his  nose,  and  grinned.  For  the  halting  supplica 
tion,  still  offered  in  that  melting  melody  of  intona 
tion,  had  passed  from  its  disconnected  plea  for 
mercy,  for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  for  the  guid 
ance  of  the  congregation,  for  the  spiritual  profit  of 
the  meeting,  and  had  boldly  entered  on  a  personal 
and  unique  petition,  a  prayer  for  the  power  to 
preach  the  gospel.  The  day  of  miracles,  the 
learned  say,  is  past.  Even  the  illiterate  congrega 
tion  in  Etowah  Cove  expected  none  to  be  wrought  in 
its  midst.  And  surely  only  the  hand  of  God  could 
touch  that  faltering  tongue  to  the  full  expression 
of  the  thought  that  trembled  impotently  upon  it. 
What  subtle  unimagined  rift  was  it  between  the 


168  THE  JUGGLER. 

mind  and  the  word,  what  breach  in  their  mysterious 
telegraphy !  Elsewhere  the  phenomenon  exists :  the 
silent  poet,  whose  metre  beats  in  certain  dumb  fer 
vors  of  the  pulse  ;  the  painter,  whose  picture  glows 
only  upon  the  retina  of  the  mind's  eye ;  or  those, 
unhappily  not  quiescent,  who  blurt  and  blunder  as 
did  Owen  Haines  in  his  incoherent  monologue  to 
Almighty  God.  But  he  was  the  single  exampli-  in 
the  experience  of  Etowah  Cove,  and  to  the  literal- 
minded  saints  the  spectacle  of  a  man  bent  upon 
preaching  the  gospel,  and  yet  so  ill  fitted  for  tin- 
task  that  he  could  scarce  put  half  a  dozen  words 
into  a  faltering  sentence,  moved  them  now  to  mirth 
and  now  to  wrath,  according  to  the  preponderance 
of  merry  or  ascetic  religionists  in  the  assembly. 
Again  and  again,  whenever  an  opportunity  was 
vouchsafed,  Owen  Haines,  with  his  illumined  face 
and  passionate  appealing  voice,  publicly  besought 
of  God  in  the  congregations  of  worshipers,  where 
he  felt  prayer  must  most  surely  prevail,  with  the 
pulse  and  the  heart  and  the  word  of  all  his  world 
to  bear  him  company  to  the  throne  of  grace,  the 
power  to  preach  the  gospel :  —  in  such  phrase,  such 
few  repetitious  disjointed  words,  disjecta  membra 
of  supplication,  with  so  flagrant  a  display  of  hope 
less  incapacity,  that  it  became  almost  the  scandal 
of  the  meetings,  and  there  had  been  a  tacit  agree 
ment  among  the  ministers  who  were  to  conduct  the 
revival  that  he  should  not  be  called  upon  to  pray. 
The  exhibition  of  his  eloquent  burning  face  and  his 
halting  words,  his  faith  and  its  open  reiterated 


THE  JUGGLER.  169 

denial,  was  not  deemed  edifying ;  and  indeed  it 
had  latterly  begun  to  affect  the  gravity  of  certain 
members  of  the  congregation  of  whose  conversion 
the  leaders  had  had  great  hopes. 

"  He  hev  got  ter  fight  that  thar  question  out 
alone,"  said  old  man  Greenought  in  indignation. 
"  I  won't  gin  him  nare  'nother  '  Amen.'  He  an' 
his  tomfool  wantin'  ter  preach  the  gorspel  whenst 
he  can't  pray  a  'spectable  prayer  is  a  pufiick  blem 
ish  on  the  divine  service  ;  it 's  fairly  makin'  game 
o'  serious  things,  —  his  prayin'  fur  the  power,  — 
an'  I  dunno  what  the  Lord  is  a-goin'  ter  do  about 
it,  but  /  ain't  a-goin'  ter  lend  my  ear  nare  'nother 
time." 

It  was  this  choleric  gentleman  who  at  last  half 
rose  from  his  knees,  and  with  a  peremptory  jerk 
of  his  thumb  toward  the  failing  sunlight  brought 
Haines's  aspiring  spirit  back  to  earth.  He  had 
gone  far  on  the  wings  of  those  poor  words,  he  had 
flown  high.  His  thought  had  so  possessed  him  that 
he  did  not  realize  what  slight  tincture  of  it  his 
speech  distilled  for  those  who  heard  him.  The  minis 
terial  thumb  jerking  a  warning  of  the  flight  of  time, 
a  certain  covert  jeer  in  the  bent  half-covered  faces 
of  those  about  him,  brought  the  fact  to  him  that 
this  prayer  was  like  so  many  others,  voiced  only 
in  the  throbs  of  his  heart.  The  light  was  dying  out 
of  his  eyes,  the  sunset  glow  had  quitted  him ;  no 
fine  illumined  countenance  now  he  bore,  as  of  one 
who  looks  on  some  transcendent  vision  ;  only  a  con 
scious  disciplined  face,  quiet  and  humbled  and  so 


170  THE  JUGGLER. 

patient !  He  broke  off  suddenly  to  say  "  Amen," 
for  he  sacrificed  no  connection,  —  he  hardly  knew 
whither  he  was  rambling,  —  and  the  people  scram 
bled  noisily  to  their  feet,  eager  for  dispersing. 

"  What  did  you-uns  call  on  him  fur,  ennyhow  ?  " 
said  old  Greenought  bluffly  to  Absalom  Tynes. 
He  had  somewhat  of  a  swaggering  manner  as  he 
came  up  close  to  the  thin,  pallid  young  man.  He 
took  great  joy  in  all  the  militant  tropes  descriptive 
of  the  Christian  estate,  and  with  the  more  liberty 
suited  his  secular  manner  to  his  ministerial  rheto 
ric.  Since  he  waged  so  brisk  a  warfare  against 
Sin  and  Satan,  he  often  seemed  about  to  turn  his 
weapons,  as  if  to  keep  his  hand  in,  against  his 
unoffending  fellow  man. 

Absalom  Tynes  did  not  flinch.  "  I  called  on 
him,"  he  said  a  trifle  drearily,  for  the  fire  of  lii> 
exaltation,  too,  was  quenched  in  that  pathetic  and 
ineffectual  "  prayin'  fur  the  power,"  "  kase  ez  I  war 
a-preachin'  the  word  I  kuowed  he  war  a-followm' 
me,  an'  I  'lowed  I  hed  got  him  ter  the  p'int  whar 
surely  he  inought  lift  up  his  heart.  I  'lowed  the 
Lord  inought  take  pity  on  him  ez  longs  ter  serve 
him,  an'  so  touch  his  lips  an'  gin  him  the  gift  o'  a 
tongue  o'  fire.  I  can't  sense  it,  somehow,  —  I 
don't  onderstand  it." 

"  I  do,"  Parson  Greenought  capably  averred. 
"  The  Lord  's  put  him  in  the  place  whar  he  wants 
him,  an'  he  '11  be  made  ter  stay  thar,  —  jes'  a-per- 
sistin'  in  prayin'  fur  the  power  !  " 

"  Thar   ain't   no   lock  an'    key  on  prayer  ez  I 


THE   JUGGLER.  171 

knows  on,"  responded  the  other  a  trifle  testily. 
"  A  man  kin  pray  fur  what  he  wills." 

"  Yes,  an'  he  kin  do  without  it,  too,  unless  the 
Lord  wills.  Fight  the  devices  o'  Satan,  an'  don't 
git  ter  be  a  beggar  at  the  throne  fur  gratifyin'  yer 
own  yearthly  quirks.  Prayin'  an'  a-prayin'  fur  the 
power !  The  power 's  a  gift,  my  brothers,  a  free 
gift,  an'  no  man  will  git  it  by  baigin'  an'  baigiii' 
an'  teasin'  fur  it." 

He  strode  off,  feeling  that  he  had  had  the  best 
of  the  discussion.  He  was  discerning  enough  to 
be  conscious  that,  despite  his  belligerencies,  he  was 
often  inferior  to  his  youthful  confrere  in  the  rheto 
ric  of  the  pulpit,  and  he  relished  the  more  worst 
ing  him  in  argument,  thus  proving  the  superiority 
of  his  judgment  and  solid  reasoning  capacities. 

Outside  the  door  a  group  of  loiterers  still  lin 
gered.  The  juggler's  prudential  motives  had  col 
lapsed  utterly  in  the  prospect  of  Mrs.  Sims's  soci 
ety  in  the  long  walk  home.  He  looked  about  him 
with  a  desperate  hope  of  diversion,  in  which  Eu- 
pheuiia  and  the  curiosity  she  had  newly  excited 
were  factors.  But  he  was  fain  to  be  content  with 
his  elderly  companion,  for  as  Euphemia's  rose-hued 
dress  blossomed  in  the  portal  against  the  dark 
brown  background  of  the  interior  he  noticed  that 
Owen  Haines  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps 
evidently  awaiting  her.  The  mountaineer  gave  her 
no  greeting,  but  walked  beside  her  as  if  his  com 
panionship  were  a  matter  of  course. 

"  Warn't   that  a  plumb   special   sermon  ? "   he 


172  THE  JUGGLER. 

said  enthusiastically,  turning  his  candid  eyes  upon 
her.  "  Tears  like  ter  me  't  war  the  best,  the  inel- 
tin'est,  the  searchin'est  discourse  I  ever  hear." 

There  was  a  measure  of  contempt  in  her  face. 
She  would  not  have  admitted  that  she  thought  her 
self  too  good  for  the  need  of  salvation,  but  the 
theme  with  all  its  cognate  elements  was  palling. 
She  replied  with  a  definite  note  of  sarcasm  in  her 
voice.  "  The  bes'  ?  Waal,  I  hev  hearn  ye  say 
that  time  an'  time  agin.  The  sermons  air  all  the 
bes',  'cordin'  ter  you-uns." 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted  a  trifle  drearily,  "  ef  I  lose 
my  soul,  't  won't  be  bekase  I  ain't  lied  the  bes' 
chance  fur  salvation.  I  hev  sot  under  a  power  o' 
good  an'  discernin'  sermons  in  my  time." 

The  seraphic  suggestions  of  his  face,  now  that 
he  was  recalled  to  earth,  were  little  marked,  and 
presently  totally  merged  when  he  clapped  his  big 
broad-brimmed  hat  upon  that  mass  of  cloudy,  fine- 
fibred  fair  hair.  The  irreverent  juggler  could 
have  laughed  at  the  swiftness  and  completeness  of 
the  transition.  Raines  still  wore  that  dreamy,  far 
away  look  which,  however,  with  mundane  associa 
tions  and  modern  garb,  is  apt  to  indicate  an  un- 
purposeful  nature  and  a  lack  of  energy  rather 
than  any  lofty  ideals  and  high  resolves.  The  per 
fect  chiseling  and  contour  of  his  countenance  and 
its  refined  intimations  were  still  patent  to  the  dis 
cerning  observer;  but  without  the  preconceived 
idea  drawn  in  the  church  from  the  aspect  of  his 
head,  with  the  soul  revealed  for  one  rapt  moment 


THE  JUGGLER.  173 

through  its  facial  expression,  —  picture-like,  dissev 
ered  from  the  suggestion  of  body  —  Royce  would 
hardly  have  perceived  any  spiritual  trait  of  a  higher 
type  in  the  young  mountaineer.  Thus  it  is  that  only 
the  outer  man  is  known  of  men,  and  that  ethereal 
essence  of  thought  and  emotion,  the  real  being,  is  a 
stranger  upon  earth  and  foreign  from  the  beginning. 
Royce,  greedily  snatching  at  the  very  straws  of 
abstraction,  watched  the  young  couple  as  they 
strolled  slowly  along  the  red  clay  road.  The 
slouching,  thin,  languid  figure  of  the  tall  youth, 
the  ill-fitting  suit  of  brown  jeans  with  the  coat 
hanging  so  loosely  from  the  narrow  shoulders,  the 
big  white  hat,  the  rough  crumpled  boots  all  ap 
pealed  to  him  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  incongruity 
as  the  accoutrement  of  this  object  of  mistaken 
identity,  when  a  golden  harp  and  a  white  robe  and 
a  sweep  of  wings  would  better  have  become  the 
first  glimpse  caught  in  the  church.  Now  and  again, 
mechanically,  involuntarily,  Euphernia  looked  fur 
tively  back  over  her  shoulder  at  Royce.  With  all 
that  surging  pulse  of  pride  in  her  heart  she  was 
strangely  bereft  of  her  wonted  assurance.  It 
would  never  have  occurred  to  her,  in  her  normal 
sphere  of  thought  and  action,  to  refer  aught  that 
concerned  her  to  the  judgment,  the  problematic 
opinion  of  another.  But  although  she  gave  him 
so  slight  thought,  although  she  could  not  definitely 
gauge  its  objects  and  interests,  she  had  not  been 
unnoting  of  that  subtle  pervasive  mockery  which 
characterized  the  juggler's  habit  of  mind.  Until 


174  THE  JUGGLER. 

now,  however,  she  had  not  cared  at  what  or  at 
whom  the  "  game-maker  "  laughed,  how  loud,  how 
long.  The  laughter  of  folly  cannot  serve  to  mock 
good  substantial  common  sense  which  affords  no 
purchase  for  ridicule;  it  rebounds  only  upon  the 
mocker.  She  apprehended  naught  in  herself,  her 
home,  her  parents,  the  Cove,  deserving  of  scorn 
or  sneers.  Her  pride  was  proof  against  this.  It 
was  because  she  herself  deemed  her  lover  ridicu 
lous  that  she  winced  from  Royce's  imagined  laugh 
now,  as  she  had  shrunk  from  the  criticism  of  the 
rest  of  the  congregation.  But  this  mockery  was 
of  the  intimate  fireside  circle.  For  Royce  would 
go  home  with  them,  and  bring  it  in  his  laugh,  his 
glance ;  nay,  she  would  be  conscious  of  it  even 
in  his  silent  recollections.  She  felt  she  had  no 
refuge  from  it.  She  told  herself  that  because  she 
loved  Haincs  she  deprecated  mockery  as  unworthy 
of  him,  she  would  fain  shield  him  from  the  sneers 
of  those  not  half  so  good  as  he.  She  would  rather 
he  should  eat  out  his  heart  in  silence  than  be 
siege  the  throne  of  grace  in  any  manner  not  cal 
culated  to  inspire  respect  and  admiration  in  those 
who  heard  his  words  addressed  to  the  Almighty. 
As  to  the  Deity,  the  goal  of  all  these  petitions, 
she  never  once  thought  of  their  spiritual  effect, 
the  possibility  of  an  answer.  She  esteemed  the 
prayer  as  in  the  nature  of  a  public  speech,  a  pub 
lic  exhibition,  which,  glorious  in  success,  is  con 
temptible  in  its  failure  in  proportion  to  the  num 
ber  of  witnesses  and  the  scope  of  the  effort.  How 


THE  JUGGLER.  175 

could  Owen  Haines  pray  for  the  power  to  preach, 
when  there  was  Absalom  Tynes  looking  on  so 
vainglorious  and  grand,  doubtless  esteeming  him 
self  a  most  "  servigrous  "  exhorter,  and  obviously 
vaunting  his  own  godliness  by  implication  in  the 
fervor  with  which  he  called  sinners  to  repentance  ? 
How  could  Owen  Haines  seek  so  openly,  so  pain 
fully,  so  terribly  insistently,  as  a  privilege,  a  boon, 
as  an  answer  to  all  his  prayers,  as  a  sign  from  the 
heavens,  as  a  token  of  salvation,  as  the  price  of  his 
life,  that  capacity  which  was  possessed  so  conspicu 
ously,  without  a  word  of  prayer,  without  a  moment 
of  spiritual  wrestling,  without  a  conscious  effort, 
by  Absalom  Tynes? 

"  I  'd  content  myself  with  the  power  ter  plough," 
she  said  to  herself. 

Then,  as  he  fell  into  retrospective  thought,  she 
said  aloud,  —  her  voice  not  ringing  true  as  was  its 
wont,  but  with  a  tremulous  uncertain  vibration,  — 
"  'Pears  like  ter  me,  ez  ye  hain't  been  gin  the 
power  arter  sech  a  sight  o'  prayer,  't  would  be 
better  ter  stop  baigin'  an'  pesterin'  the  Lord 
'bout'n  it." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the 
little  roadside  rill  flung  out  on  the  air  the  rudi 
ments  of  a  song,  —  a  high  crystalline  tremor,  a 
whispering  undertone,  a  comprehensive  surging 
splash  as  of  all  its  miniature  currents  resolved  into 
one  chord  con  tutta  forza,  and  so  to  whispering 
and  tentative  tinklings  again.  He  had  turned  his 
clear  long-lashed  blue  eyes  upon  her,  and  she  saw 


176  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  reproach  in  them.  That  courage  in  the  femi 
nine  heart  which  dares  wreak  cruelty  on  its  own 
tender  fibres  urged  her. 

"  I  hev  tole  ye  that  afore,"  she  added  sternly. 

He  was  still  silent.  So  sacred  was  that  disre 
garded  petition  of  his  that,  despite  the  publicity 
of  its  preferment,  its  free  unrestrained  fervors,  he 
could  hardly  discuss  it,  even  with  her. 

"  Ye  hain't  hed  no  advices  from  the  Lord,"  she 
argued.  "Ye  hev  been  pray  in'  fur  the  po\\rr 
constant,  ever  since  ye  got  religion,  an'  the  Lord 
don't  take  no  notice  o'  ye." 

A  shadow  was  on  his  face,  pain  in  his  eyes. 
Any  one  more  merciful  than  the  proud  woman 
who  loved  him,  and  who  would  fain  conserve  his 
pride,  might  have  pitied  the  sudden  revulsion  from 
the  enthusiastic  pleasure  in  the  sacred  themes  of 
the  sermon  so  late  upon  his  lip  and  firing  his  eye 
—  which  she  accounted  merely  the  triumphs  of 
Absalom  Tynes  —  to  this  abasement  and  sorrow 
and  prescient  despair. 

44 1  kin  wait  on  his  will,"  he  said  humbly. 

44  Waal,  ye  better  wait  in  silence,"  Euphemia 
declared,  near  to  the  brink  of  tears,  —  angry  and 
wounded  and  scornful  tears. 

44  4  Ask  an'  ye  shall  receive,  seek  an'  ye  shall 
find,'  "  he  quoted  pertinently,  with  that  upbraiding 
look  in  his  eyes  which  hurt  her  for  his  sake,  and 
which  she  resented  for  her  own. 

44  How  long !  how  long !  "  she  cried  impetuously. 
44  Will  ye  spen'  yer  life  askin'  fur  what 's  denial 


THE   JUGGLER.  177 

ye,  seekin'  fur  what  's  hidden  from  ye  ?  The 
Lord  's  got  nuthin'  fur  ye,  Owen,  an'  by  this  time 
ye  oughter  hev  sensed  that." 

"  Then  I  kin  pray  fur  the  grace  ter  take  denial 
from  his  hands  like  a  rich  gift,"  he  declared,  his 
face  kindling  with  an  illumined,  uplifted  look. 

"  Oh,  yer  prayin'  an'  pray  in' !  I  'm  plumb 
wore  out  with  it !  "  she  cried,  stopping  still  in  the 
road  ;  then  realizing  the  advance  of  the  others  she 
walked  on  hastily,  and  with  the  affectation  of  a 
careless  gesture  she  took  off  her  bonnet  and  swung 
it  debonairly  by  the  string,  lest  any  emotional 
crisis  be  inferred  from  her  abrupt  halt.  "  Owen 
Haines,"  she  said,  with  sudden  inspiration,  "  ye 
air  deceived  by  Satan.  Ye  ain't  wantin'  the  power 
ter  preach  the  gospel  ter  advance  the  kingdom. 
Ye  want  the  power  ter  prance  ez  prideful  ez  a 
peacock  in  the  pul-p£,  like  Absalom  Tynes  an' 
them  other  men  what  air  cuttin'  sech  a  dash  afore 
the  yearth  ez  keeps  'em  from  keerin'  much  how 
the  nangels  in  heaven  air  weepin'  over  'em." 

He  recoiled  from  this  thrust,  for,  however  his 
charity  might  seek  to  ignore  the  fact,  however  his 
simplicity  might  fail  to  discern  it,  his  involuntary 
intuition  made  him  well  aware  that  "  prancing  ez 
prideful  ez  a  peacock  "  was  not  altogether  foreign 
to  the  pulpit  here  or  elsewhere,  and  that  undue 
vainglory  must  needs  wait  on  special  proficiency. 
She  felt  that  she  struck  hard  in  imputing  to  him  a 
motive  of  which  he  knew  himself  to  be  incapable. 
Perhaps  he  would  have  pleased  her  better  had  he 


178  THE  JUGGLER. 

combined  his  religious  fervors  with  any  intention 
so  practical,  so  remunerative,  so  satisfying  to  the 
earthly  sentiment  of  one  not  too  good  to  live  in 
this  world. 

It  was  eminently  in  keeping  with  that  phase  of 
his  character  which  she  most  contemned  that  he 
should,  with  his  cheek  still  flushed,  with  his  eyes 
wincing  and  narrowing  as  from  a  blow,  begin  a 
vehement  defense,  not  of  himself  and  his  motives, 
but  of  Absalom  Tynes. 

She  would  hardly  listen.  "I  hev  heam  ye  t:ilk 
about  Absalom  Tynes,  an'  I  don't  want  ter  hear 
no  mo'.  I  know  what  I  know.  Tell  me  thar  ain't 
no  pride  in  the  pul-pit,  —  a-readin'  an'  a-talkin' 
an'  a-preachin'  so  glib  an'  precise,  an'  showin'  off 
so  gran'  afore  the  wimminfolks,  an'  a-singin'  so 
full-mouthed  an'  loud,  an'  bein'  the  biggest  man 
thar ;  fur  Satan,  though  he  often  gits  his  club-foot 
on  the  pvl-pit  stairs,  ain't  never  been  knowed  ter 
step  up !  Ye  tell  me  that  ain't  true  'bout  some, 
ef  not  that  precious  friend  o'  yourn,  Absalom 
Tynes?" 

*'  Euphemia,"  he  said  sternly  in  his  turn,  and 
her  heart  was  full  at  the  tone  of  his  voice,  "I 
dunno  what  idee  you-uns  hev  got ;  ye  'pear  so  — 
so — diff'unt — so" —  He  hesitated;  his  words 
were  not  wont  to  be  ready. 

"  So  diff'unt  from  what  ?  From  you-uns  ?  I 
reckon  so!  Ef  I  war  ter  drap  dead  this  minit, 
nuthin',  nuthin'  could  hev  made  me  act  like  you- 
uns,  prayin'  an'  prayin'  fur  the  power  ter  preach 


THE  JUGGLER.  179 

—  whenst  —  whenst  —  Owen  Haines,  ye  ain't  even 
got  the  power  ter  pray  !     The  Lord  denies  ye  that 

—  even  the  power  ter  ax  so  ez  —  ter  be  fitten  fur 
folks  ter  hear  !  " 

"  The  Lord  kin  hear,  Euphemy ;  he  reads  the 
secret  thoughts." 

"  Let  yourn  be  secret,  then  !  "  cried  Euphemia. 
"  Fur  the  folks  air  listenin'  too  ter  the  thoughts 
which  the  Lord  kin  hear  'thout  the  need  o'  words 

—  listenin'  an  —  an',  Owen  Haines,  laffin' !  "    She 
choked  back  a  sob,  as  her  eyes  filled  and  the  tears 
ran  out  on   her    scarlet    cheek.     With  a  stealthy 
gesture  she  wiped  them  away  with  the  curtain  of 
her  pink  sun  bonnet,   carrying  herself  very  stiffly 
lest  some  unconsidered  turn  of  the  head  betray  her 
rush  of  emotion  to  the  other  church-goers  loitering 
behind.     When  she   lifted    her  eyes,  the   flow  of 
tears  all  stanched,  her  sobs  curbed,  she  beheld  his 
eyes  fixed  sorrowfully  upon  her. 

"  D'  ye  'low  I  dunno  that,  Euphemy  ?  "  he  said, 
his  voice  trembling.  "  D'  ye  'low  I  don't  see  'em 
an'  hear  'em  too  when  I  'm  nigh  the  Amen  ?  " 

Her  tears  burst  out  anew  when  she  remembered 
that  the  "  Amen  "  was  often  said  for  him  by  the 
presiding  minister,  with  such  final  significance 
of  intonation,  ostentatiously  rising  the  while  from 
the  kneeling  posture,  as  to  fix  perforce  a  period 
to  this  prolix  incoherency  of  "  prayin'  fur  the 
power." 

"  Ye  don't  feel  it,"  she  protested,  very  cautiously 
sobbing,  for  since  her  grief  would  not  be  denied, 


180  THE  JUGGLER. 

she   indulged  it  under  strict  guard,  —  "ye  don't 
fed  it !     But  me,  —  it  cuts  me  like  a  knife  ! ' 

"  Why,  Phemie,"  he  said  softly,  walking  closer 
to  her  side,  —  noticing  which  she  moved  nearer 
the  verge  of  the  stream,  that  she  might  keep  the 
distance  between  them  exactly  the  same  as  before, 
not  that  she  wished  to  repel  him,  but  that  the  de 
monstration  might  escape  the  notice  of  those  who 
followed,  — "  'pears  ter  me  like  ye  ought  n't  ter 
keer  fur  the  laffin'  an'  mockin',  fur  mebbe  I  '11  be 
visited  with  a  outpourin'  o'  the  spent,  an'  be 
'lowed  ter  work  fur  my  Lord  like  I  wanter  do." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  ;  they  had  reached 
the  top  of  a  sort  of  promontory  that  jutted  out 
over  a  leafy  sea  of  the  budding  forests  on  the 
levels  of  the  Cove  below.  The  whole  world  of  the 
spring  was  a-blooming.  Even  the  tulip-trees,  with 
their  splendid  dignity  of  height  and  imposing 
girth,  seeming  well  able  to  spare  garlands,  wore  to 
their  topmost  sprays  myriads  of  red  and  yellow 
bells  swaying  in  the  breeze.  The  azaleas  were  all 
a-blow,  and  a  flowering  vine,  the  merest  groundling, 
but  decked  with  delicate  white  corymbs,  lay  across 
the  path.  The  view  of  the  sinking  sun  was  inter 
cepted  by  a  great  purple  range,  heavy  and  low 
ering  of  shadow  and  sombre  of  hue,  but  through 
the  gap  toward  the  west,  as  if  glimpsed  through 
some  massive  gate,  was  visible  a  splendid  irradia 
tion  overspreading  the  yellow-green  valley  and  the 
blue  mountains  beyond  ;  so  vividly  azure  was  this 
tint  that  the  color  seemed  to  share  the  vernal  im- 


THE  JUGGLER.  181 

pulse  and  glowed  with  unparalleled  radiance,  like 
some  embellishment  of  the  spring  which  the  grosser 
seasons  of  the  year  might  not  compass.  From 
below,  where  the  beetling  rock  overhung  a  wilder 
ness  of  rhododendron,  voices  came  up  on  the  soft 
air.  The  others  of  the  party  had  taken  the  short 
cut.  She  heard  her  mother's  wheeze,  the  juggler's 
low  mellow  voice,  her  father's  irritable  raucous 
response,  and  she  realized  that  she  might  speak 
without  interruption. 

"  The  Lord  's  got  nuthin'  fur  ye,"  she  averred 
vehemently ;  "  he  don't  need  yer  preachin'  an'  he 
don't  listen  ter  yer  prayers.  Ye  hev  come  ter  be 
the  laffin'-stock  o'  the  meetin'  an'  the  jye  o'  the 
game-makers  o'  the  Cove.  An'  ef  —  ef  ye  don't 
gin  it  up  —  I  —  I  —  ye  '11  hev  ter  gin  me  up  —  one 
or  t'other —  me  or  that." 

Haines  was  not  slow  now.  He  understood  her 
in  a  flash.  The  covert  grin,  the  scornful  titter, 
the  zestf ul  wink,  —  she  cared  more  for  these  small 
demonstrations  of  the  unthinkingly  merry  or  the 
censorious  scoffer  than  for  him  or  the  problematic 
work  that  his  Master  might  send  him  the  grace  to 
do.  Nevertheless,  he  steadied  himself  to  put  this 
into  words  that  he  might  make  sure  beyond  per- 
adventure.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat.  The  wind 
was  blowing  back  the  masses  of  his  fine  curling 
fair  hair  from  his  broad  low  brow.  His  cheeks 
were  flushed,  his  eyes  alight  and  intense.  He 
held  his  head  slightly  forward.  "  I  must  gin  you 
up,  or  gin  up  prayin'  fur  the  power  ter  preach  ?  " 


182  THE  JUGGLER. 

"  Pray  in'  in  public  —  'fore  the  folks  —  I  mean  ; 
in  the  church-house  or  at  camp-meetin'.  Oh,  I 
can't  marry  a  man  gin  over  ter  sech  prayin'  afore 
the  congregations  !  but  ye  kin  go  off  yander  alone 
in  the  woods  or  on  the  mountings,  an'  pray,  ef  so 
minded,  till  the  skies  fall,  for  all  I  'm  keerin'." 

"  Ye  mind  kase  people  laff,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Ef  people  laff  at  me  kase  I  be  foolish,  I  mind 
it.  "  Ef  people  laff  at  me  kase  they  air  fools,  they 
air  welcome  ter  thar  laffin'  an'  thar  folly  too." 
This  discrimination  was  plain.  But  as  he  still 
looked  dreamy  and  dazed,  she  made  the  applica 
tion  for  him.  "  Ye  can't  preach ;  ye  can't  pray ; 
ye  make  a  idjit  o'  yerself  tryin'.  I  can't  marry 
no  sech  man  'thout  ye  gin  up  prayin'  'fore  folks." 

"  Ye  think  mo'  o'  folks  'n  the  Lord  ?  "  Haines 
demanded,  with  a  touch  of  that  ministerial  asperity 
expert  in  imputing  sin. 

But  so  widely  diffused  are  the  principles  of 
Christianity  that  the  well-grounded  layman  c:in 
rarely  be  silenced  even  by  a  minister  with  a  call, 
much  less  poor  uncommissioned  tongue-tied  Owen 
Haines. 

"The  Lord  makes  allowances  which  people 
can't  an'  won't,"  she  retorted.  "He  hears  the 
thought  an'  the  sigh,  an'  even  the  voice  of  a  tear." 

"  He  does !  He  does ! "  cried  Owen  Haines, 
fired  by  the  very  suggestion,  his  face,  his  eyes,  his 
lips  aflame.  "  An'  may  my  tongue  cleave  to  the 
roof  of  my  mouth  an'  my  right  hand  be  withered 
an'  forget  its  cunning,  may  agues  an'  anguish  rack 


THE  JUGGLER.  183 

my  body  an'  may  my  mind  dwindle  ter  the  sense 
of  a  brute  beastis,  ef  ever  I  promise  ter  put  bonds 
on  prayer  or  eschew  the  hope  of  my  heart  in  the 
house  of  God.  I  '11  pray  fur  the  power  —  I  '11 
pray  fur  the  power  ter  preach  till  I  lose  the  gift  o' 
speech  —  till  1  kin  say  no  word  but  '  the  power !  - 
the  power  !  —  the  power  ' ! " 

Euphemia  cowered  before  the  enthusiasm  her 
chance  phrase  had  conjured  up.  She  had  not,  in 
a  certain  sense,  doubted  the  sincerity  of  her  lover's 
religious  fervor.  She  secretly  and  unconsciously 
doubted  the  validity  of  any  spiritual  life.  She 
could  not  postulate  the  sacrificial  temperament. 
She  could  not  realize  how  he  would  have  embraced 
any  votive  opportunity.  He  was  of  the  type  akin 
to  the  anchorite,  the  monastic  recluse,  —  who  in 
default  of  aught  else  offers  the  kernel  of  life,  if 
not  its  empty  shell,  —  even  the  martyr.  For  he 
had  within  him  that  fiery  exaltation  which  might 
have  held  him  stanch  at  the  stake,  and  lifted  his 
voice  in  triumphant  psalmody  above  the  roar  of 
the  flames.  But  although  he  had  had  his  spiritual 
sufferings  of  denial,  and  floutings,  and  painful 
patience,  and  hope  that  played  the  juggler  with 
despair,  he  had  anticipated  no  ordeal  like  this. 
He  looked  in  her  eyes  for  some  token  of  relenting, 
his  own  full  of  tears  above  the  hardly  quenched 
brightness  of  his  fervor  of  faith,  a  quiver  on  his 
lips. 

Her  face  was  set  and  stern.  With  a  realization 
how  deeply  the  fantasy  had  struck  roots  in  his 


184  THE  JUGGLER. 

nature,  she  perceived  that  she  must  needs  share  it 
or  flee  it.  She  was  hardly  aware  of  what  she  did 
mechanically,  but  as  she  painstakingly  tied  the 
pink  strings  of  her  bonnet  under  her  dimpled  chin 
it  was  with  an  air  of  finality,  of  taking  leave. 
She  was  not  unconscious  of  a  certain  pathetic 
appeal  in  his  life,  seemingly  unnoted  by  God,  yet 
for  God's  service,  and  rejected  by  love.  But  she 
thought  that  if  he  pitied  himself  without  avail  she 
need  not  reproach  herself  that  she  did  not  pity 
him  more.  And  truly  she  had  scant  pity  to  spare. 
And  so  he  stood  there  and  said  "  Farewell  "  as  in 
a  dream,  and  as  in  a  dream  she  left  him. 


VII. 

IT  created  something  of  a  sensation,  one  morn 
ing,  when  the  juggler  —  for  the  mountaineers  as 
solemnly  distinguished  him  by  the  name  he  had 
given  them  of  his  queer  vocation  as  if  it  were  the 
serious  profession  of  law  —  appeared  among  the 
lime-burners  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain.  With 
his  sensitive  perceptions,  he  could  not  fail  to  notice 
their  paucity  of  courtesy,  the  look  askance,  the 
interchanged  glances.  Singularly  obtuse,  however, 
he  must  have  seemed,  for  he  presently  ensconced 
himself,  with  a  great  show  of  consideration  for  his 
own  comfort,  as  if  for  a  stay  of  length,  in  the  shel 
tered  recess  where  the  lime-burners  were  seated 
at  some  distance  from  the  fire,  for  the  heat  was 
searching  and  oppressive.  The  heavy  shadow  of 
the  cliff  protected  them  from  the  sun.  Below,  the 
valley  was  spread  out  like  a  map.  If  one  would 
have  dreams,  a  sylvan  ditty  that  an  unseen  stream, 
in  a  deep  ravine  hard  by,  was  rippling  out  like  a 
chime  of  silver  bells  swaying  in  the  wayward  wind 
came  now  to  the  ear,  and  now  was  silent,  and 
somehow  invited  the  fantasies  of  drowsing.  Every 
thing  that  grew  betokened  the  spring.  Even  the 
great  pines  which  knew  no  devastation  of  winter 
bore  testimony  to  the  vernal  impulse,  and  stood 


18G  THE  JUGGLER. 

bedecked  with  fair  young  shoots  as  with  a  thousand 
waxen  tapers. 

The  juggler,  lying  at  full  length  on  the  moss, 
his  hands  clasped  under  his  head,  watched  their 
serried  ranks  all  adown  the  slope,  broken  here  and 
there  by  the  high-tinted  verdure  of  the  deciduous 
trees.  He  conserved  a  silence  that  seemed  unin 
tentional  and  accidental,  perhaps  because  of  his 
unconstrained  attitude  and  of  his  casual  expression 
of  countenance,  since  he  apparently  took  no  note 
of  the  cessation  of  conversation  among  the  lime- 
burners  which  had  supervened  on  his  arrival. 

Talk  was  soon  resumed,  however,  curiosity  be 
coming  a  factor. 

"  Who  's  'tendin'  the  pertracted  meetin'  down 
yander,  from  Sims's  ?  "  demanded  Peter  Knowles, 
looking  at  Royce  to  intimate  whom  he  addressed. 

"  Only  the  head  of  the  house,"  responded  the 
juggler :  "  Tubal  Cain,  the  man  of  might,  him 
self." 

Peter  Knowles  still  gazed  at  him  with  frowning 
fixity.  "  That  thar  Jane  Ann  Sims  ain't  got  no 
mo'  religion  'n  a  Dominicky  hen,"  he  observed. 

"  Well,"  the  juggler  was  fain  to  contend  in  a 
sentiment  of  loyalty  to  the  roof  that  sheltered  him, 
"  she  is  busy  ;  she  has  her  household  duties  to  look 
after." 

"  Shucks,  ye  young  buzzard !  ye  can't  fool  me  !  " 
exclaimed  Tip  Wrothers,  in  half -jocular  triumph. 
"  Don't  all  the  Cove  know  ez  Jane  Ann  Sims  don't 
turn  a  hand  ef  Phemie's  thar  ter  do  it  fur  her  ?  " 


THE  JUGGLER.  187 

"  Yaas,"  drawled  Gideon  Beck,  "  an'  Phemie 
ain't  got  much  mo'  religion  'n  her  mammy.  Jes' 
wunst  hev  she  been  'tendin'  on  the  meetin',  —  an' 
this  air  Thursday,  an'  the  mourners  constant,  an' 
a  great  awakenin'.  Phemie  Sims  would  set  the 
nangel  Gabriel  down  ter  wait  in  the  passage  whilst 
she  war  a-polishin'  of  her  milk-crocks,  ef  he  hed 
been  sent  ter  fetch  her  ter  heaven,  an'  she  warn't 
through  her  dairy  worship." 

"  If  Mrs.  Sims  does  n't  turn  her  hand,  there  's 
obliged  to  be  somebody  there  to  turn  one.  We 
don't  have  any  rations  of  manna  served  out  these 
days,"  argued  the  juggler.  "It's  well  that  some 
body  stays  at  home.  Tubal  Cain  and  I  are  enough 
church-goers  for  one  house." 

"Air  you-uns  a  mourner?"  demanded  Beck, 
with  a  sudden  accession  of  interest. 

"  No,"  answered  the  juggler,  "  though  I  've  lots 
and  cords  to  mourn  over."  He  shifted  his  position 
with  a  sigh. 

Wrothers  and  Knowles  exchanged  a  significant 
glance  which  Beck  did  not  observe.  With  a  dis 
tinct  bridling  he  said,  "  /  be  a  perfesser.  /  hev 
been  a  perfesser  fur  the  past  ten  year." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  satisfaction,"  responded  the 
juggler. 

It  was  something,  however,  which  he  did  not 
envy,  and  this  fact  was  so  patent  that  it  roused  the 
rancfijr  of  Beck.  One  of  the  dearest  delights  of 
possession  is  often  the  impotent  grudging  of  him 
who  hath  not. 


INS  THE  JUGGLER. 

The  juggler,  despite  his  assured  demeanor,  had 
reverted  to  that  sense  of  discomfort  which  had 
earlier  beset  him  when  he  went  abroad  in  the  Cove. 
In  the  church  he  had  marked  a  certain  agitated 
curiosity  as  members  of  the  congregation  who  had 
been  at  the  "  show  "  recognized  the  man  who  was 
deemed  so  indisputably  in  league  with  Satan.  But 
this  was  merged  in  the  fast  accumulating  inter 
est  of  the  meetings,  and  upon  a  second  attend 
ance,  burring  that  he  was  here  and  there  covertly 
pointed  out  to  wide-eyed  newcomers,  denizens  of 
further  heights  and  more  retired  dells,  his  entrance 
scarcely  made  a  ripple  of  excitement.  This  he 
accounted  eminently  satisfactory.  It  had  been  his 
intention  to  accustom  the  mountaineers  to  the 
sight  of  him,  to  have  his  accomplishments  as  a 
prestidigitator  grow  stale  as  a  story  that  is  told,  to 
be  looked  upon  as  a  familiar  and  a  member  of 
the  Sims  household ;  all  this  favored  his  disguise 
and  his  escape  from  notoriety  and  question.  He 
had  been  prepared  for  the  surprise  and  curiosity 
which  the  presence  of  a  stranger  in  so  secluded  a 
region  naturally  excites.  Since  learning  somewhat 
of  the  superstitions  and  distorted  religious  ideas 
which  prevailed  among  so  ignorant  and  sequestered 
a  people,  he  could  even  understand  their  fear  of 
his  simple  feats  of  legerdemain,  and  the  referring 
of  the  capacity  to  work  these  seeming  miracles  to 
collusion  with  the  devil.  But  altogether  different, 
mysterious,  threatening,  unnerving,  was  the  keen 
inimical  vigilance  which  he  discerned  in  Peter 


THE  JUGGLER.  189 

Knowles's  eye ;  the  sense  of  some  withheld 
thought,  some  unimagined  expectation,  which  might 
be  apprehended  yet  not  divined,  roused  afresh  the 
terror  of  detection  which  had  begun  to  slumber 
in  the  security  of  this  haven  with  its  new  life 
and  absolute  death  to  the  old  world.  As  the  jug 
gler  lay  on  his  back,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  that 
deep  blue  sky  of  May,  fringed  about  with  the 
fibrous  pines  above  his  head,  he  tried  to  elucidate 
the  problem.  Something  alien,  something  danger 
ous,  something  removed  it  was  from  the  fantasies 
of  the  ignorant  mountaineers.  But  for  all  his 
keenness  and  his  long  training  in  the  haunts  of 
men,  for  all  his  close  observation  and  his  habit  of 
just  deduction,  that  thin-lipped,  narrow,  ascetic  vis 
age  gave  him  no  inkling  what  this  withheld  thought 
might  be,  —  how  it  could  be  elicited,  met,  thwarted. 
Only  one  gleam  of  significance  from  the  eye  he 
interpreted,  a  distinct  note  of  interrogation.  What 
ever  the  expectation  might  be,  to  whatever  it  might 
be  leading,  it  was  not  devoid  of  uncertainty  and 
of  involuntary  inquiry. 

He  attempted  to  reassure  himself.  He  tried  to 
argue  that  it  was  only  his  consciousness  surcharged 
with  its  weighty  secret  which  made  him  flinch 
when  any  questioning  eye  was  turned  upon  him. 
What  could  this  mountaineer,  ignorant  and  inex 
perienced  as  the  rest,  divine  or  suspect,  —  how 
could  he  dream  of  the  truth  ? 

And  yet,  so  much  was  at  stake  :  his  liberty,  his 
name,  his  honor,  —  nay,  the  sheerest  commercial 


190  THE  JUGGLER. 

honesty.  And  so  far  all  had  gone  well!  He 
clung  now  to  his  fictitious  death  as  if  the  prospect 
of  this  existence  in  the  Cove  had  not  well-nigh 
made  it  real,  so  had  his  heart  sunk  within  him  at 
the  thought  of  the  future.  He  said  to  himself 
sharply  that  he  would  not  be  brought  to  bay  by 
this  clumsy  schemer.  Surely  he  could  meet  craft 
with  craft.  The  old  habit  of  transacting  business 
had  no  doubt  sufficed  to  keep  his  countenance 
impassive,  and  he  would  set  himself  to  add  to  the 
little  they  knew  circumstances  of  which  they  did 
not  dream,  well  calculated  to  baffle  preconceived 
theories. 

"  No,  I  'm  not  a  mourner,"  he  replied  to  Beck's 
sanctimonious  gaze,  —  "not  much!  The  kind  of 
sinner  I  am  goes  to  meeting  to  see  the  girls." 

A  momentary  silence  ensued.  Not  that  this 
pernicious  motive  for  seeking  the  house  of  worship 
was  unheard  of  in  Etowah  Cove.  There  as  else 
where  it  was  a  very  usual  symptom  of  original  sin. 
Few  saints,  however  indurated  by  holiness  against 
such  perversion  of  the  obvious  uses  of  the  sanctu 
ary,  but  could  remember  certain  soft  and  callow 
days  when  the  theme  of  salvation  held  forth  no 
greater  reward  than  the  occupancy  of  crowded  back 
benches  and  the  unrestricted  gaze  of  round  young 
eyes.  It  was,  nevertheless,  a  motive  so  contrary 
to  the  suspicion  which  Knowles  and  Sims  himself 
had  entertained  of  the  juggler's  sojourn  here  and 
had  grafted  on  the  credulity  of  their  cronies,  —  a 
lightsome  motive,  so  incompatible  with  the  grisly 


THE  JUGGLER.  191 

suggestions  of  murder,  and  flight  from  justice,  and 
the  expectation  of  capture  and  condign  punish 
ment, —that  it  could  not  be  at  first  assimilated 
with  his  supposed  identity  as  a  fugitive  and  crim 
inal.  His  sudden  unaccounted-for  presence  here, 
the  unexplained  prolonged  stay,  the  report  of  the 
silent  preoccupied  hours  which  he  spent  on  the 
ledges  over  the  river,  fishing  with  an  unbaited  hook, 
the  troubled  silence,  the  answers  at  haphazard,  the 
pallid  languid  apparition  after  sleepless  nights, 
and,  more  than  all,  the  agonized  cries  from  out  the 
feigned  miseries  of  dreams,  all  tallied  fairly  and 
justified  the  theory  built  upon  them.  But  this 
new  element  interjected  so  abruptly  had  a  disinte 
grating  subversive  effect. 

"  Waal,  ain't  all  the  gals  in  the  kentry  mighty 
nigh  down  yander  at  the  meetin'  now  ?  "  demanded 
Beck. 

He  spoke  mechanically,  for  he  had  lost  sight  of 
his  effort  to  induce  the  juggler  to  attend  upon  the 
means  of  grace,  if  ever  he  had  seriously  entertained 
it,  and  he  would  not,  on  sober  reflection,  have 
offered  this  frivolous  inducement  as  a  loadstone  to 
draw  the  reluctant  heavenward,  —  let  perdition 
seize  him  first ! 

"  Plenty  there,  no  doubt,"  said  the  juggler 
uncommunicatively,  as  if  having  taken  counsel 
within  himself. 

Old  Josiah  Cobbs  chuckled  knowingly,  as  he  sat 
on  the  stump  of  the  tree  which  he  most  affected 
and  nursed  his  knee.  "  The  right  one  ain't  thar, 


192  THE  JUGGLER. 

—  that's  the  hitch!  All  the  gals  but  one,  an' 
that  one  wuth  all  the  rest,  hey  ? "  He  chuckled 
once  more,  thinking  he  was  peculiarly  keen-witted 
to  spy  out  the  secret  of  the  juggler's  indifference 
to  prayer  and  praise.  He  perceived  naught  of  the 
subtler  significance  of  the  disclosure,  and  easily  quit 
ting  the  subject  he  turned  his  head  as  if  to  listen. 

The  sound  of  the  hymning  rose  suddenly  on  the 
breeze.  From  far  away  it  was,  if  one  must  mete 
out  the  distance  by  the  windings  of  the  red  clay 
road  and  the  miles  of  fragrant  springtide  woods 
that  intervened.  But  the  music  came  straight 
through  the  air  like  the  winged  thing  it  is.  And 
now  it  soared  in  solemn  jubilance,  and  now  it  sank 
with  soft  fluctuations,  and  presently  he  recognized 
the  tune  and  fell  to  humming  it  in  unison  with 
that  far-away  worship  and  with  that  air  of  soft 
pleasure  in  the  religious  cadences  which  one  may 
often  see  in  the  aged,  and  which  suggests  the  idea 
that  in  growing  old  hymns  become  as  folk-song  on 
the  lips  of  the  returning  exile,  and  in  every  inflec 
tion  is  the  rapture  of  going  home. 

The  others  neither  heard  nor  heeded.  They 
reminded  Lucien  Royce,  as  they  were  grouped 
around  him,  —  some  standing,  some  sitting  or 
reclining  on  the  mossy  rocks  in  the  flickering 
shade,  but  every  eye  fixed  speculatively  on  him,  — 
of  that  fable  in  many  tongues  wherein  the  beasts 
of  the  field  find  a  sleeping  man  and  hold  a  congress 
to  determine  the  genus  of  the  animal,  his  capaci 
ties  and  utilities.  He  looked  as  inadvertent  as  he 


THE  JUGGLER.  193 

could,  and  but  for  the  jeopardy  of  all  lie  held  dear 
he  might  have  discovered  in  the  situation  food  for 
mirth. 

Jack  Ormsby,  who  had  not  spoken  heretofore, 
sat  with  a  great  clasp-knife  in  his  hand  whittling 
into  thin  slivers  a  bit  of  the  bird's-eye  maple  that 
lay  prone  on  the  ground  as  if  it  had  no  better  uses 
in  manufacture  than  to  furnish  fuel  to  burn  lime. 
He  suddenly  said,  regardless  of  the  possible  infer 
ence  and  with  a  certain  surly  emphasis,  "  I  hev 
hearn  tell  ez  Euphemia  Sims  air  a-goin'  ter  marry 
Owen  Haines." 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  "  cried  the  juggler. 

Swift  significant  glances  were  exchanged  among 
the  others  as  he  pulled  himself  into  a  sitting  pos 
ture  and  looked  with  challenging  controversy  at 
Ormsby.  The  young  mountaineer  seemed  surprised 
at  this  direct  demonstration. 

"  They  hev  been  keepin'  comp'ny  cornsider'ble, 
ennyhow,"  he  persisted. 

"  Let  bygones  be  bygones,"  the  juggler  said, 
with  his  wonted  easy  flippancy. 

Old  Cobbs  rejoiced  in  the  idea  of  love-making  in 
the  abstract.  He  had  not  realized  who  was  the 
girl  whose  absence  apparently  rendered  the  crowded 
church  but  a  barren  desert.  He  only  apprehended 
that  one  of  the  disputants  advanced  the  possibility 
of  a  future  marriage  which  the  other  denied.  He 
sided  at  once  with  conjugal  bliss. 

"  I  reckon  it  must  be  true,"  he  urged.  "  Thar 
ain't  nuthin'  ter  be  said  agin  it." 


194  THE   JUGGLER. 

"  Except  he 's  a  fool !  "  exclaimed  the  juggler, 
with  rancor. 

"  Ye  mean  'bout  prayin'  fur  the  power  ?  "  asked 
Beck. 

"  A  tremendous  fool !  He  can't  preach.  He 
has  n't  the  endowment,  the  gift  of  the  gab.  He 
has  no  call  from  above  or  below." 

Boyce  felt  no  antagonism  toward  the  man,  and  he 
realized  that  they  all  shared  his  standpoint,  but  he 
was  not  ill  pleased  that  he  should  seem  to  be  jeal 
ously  decrying  Euphemia's  lover. 

"  Phemie  don't  'low  he  be  a  fool,  I  '11  be 
bound,"  said  old  Cobbs.  "  I  hev  viewed  a  many  a 
man  'counted  a  puffick  id  jit,  mighty  nigh,  at  the 
sto'  an'  the  blacksmith  shop,  yit  at  home  'mongst 
his  wimminfolks  he  be  a  mo'  splendugious  pusson 
'n  the  President  o'  the  Nunited  States." 

"  I  reckon  Jack  's  right,"  remarked  Beck.  "  I 
reckon  they  '11  marry."  This  stroke,  he  reflected 
with  satisfaction,  cut  not  only  the  juggler,  but 
Ormsby  also,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  it  was 
the  theory  advanced  by  the  young  mountaineer 
himself. 

"  I  '11  bet  my  hat  they  don't,"  declared  the  jug 
gler  eagerly. 

This  suggestion  of  superior  knowledge,  of  cer 
tainty,  on  the  part  of  a  stranger  angered  Jack 
Ormsby,  who  vibrated  between  his  red-hot  jealousy 
of  the  juggler  on  one  side  and  of  Owen  Haines  on 
the  other. 

"  We-uns  know  Phemie  Sims  better  'n  ye  do !  " 


THE  JUGGLER.  195 

he  said,  as  if  this  were  an  argument  despite  the 
chameleon-hued  changes  of  the  feminine  mind. 
•;  Ye  never  seen  her  till  ye  kem  ter  Etowah  Cove." 
•  "  How  do  you  know  I  did  n't  ?  "  retorted  the 
juggler  warily.  He  sat  leaning  forward,  his  hat  in 
his  hand;  his  hair,  grown  longer  than  its  wont, 
was  crumpled  on  his  forehead  ;  he  looked  at  Ormsby 
with  a  glitter  of  triumph  in  his  red-brown  eyes. 

"  Whar  'd  ye  kem  from  jes'  afore  ye  got  hyar  ?  " 
demanded  Ormsby  huskily. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  are  so  inquisitive,  my 
son,"  returned  the  juggler,  airily  flouting,  "  but 
since  you  wish  to  know  —  from  Piomingo  Cove." 

This  was  true  in  a  literal  sense.  Since  he  had 
been  here,  and  had  sought,  with  that  instinct  natu 
ral  to  civilized  people,  to  grasp  the  details  of  the 
surrounding  country,  —  some  specimens  of  the 
genus  not  being  able  to  sleep  until  the  points  of 
the  compass  are  satisfactorily  indicated  and  ar 
ranged  in  their  well-regulated  minds,  —  he  had 
learned  that  the  rugged  valley  which  he  had 
traversed,  with  only  another  cove  intervening  before 
he  reached  Etowah,  was  Piomingo  Cove.  They  all 
remembered  Euphemia's  recent  visit  there.  The 
inference  was  but  too  plain.  He  had  doubtless 
seen  her  at  her  grandmother's  house  down  in  Pio 
mingo  Cove,  and,  fascinated  by  her  beauty  and 
charm,  he  had  followed  her  here.  And  here  he 
lingered,  —  what  so  natural !  A  proud,  headstrong 
maiden  like  Euphemia  was  not  to  be  won  in  a  day  ; 
and  should  he  leave  her,  with  Jack  Ormsby  and 


196  THE  JUGGLER. 

Owen  Haines  inciting  each  other  to  haste  and 
urgency,  were  matters  likely  to  remain  until  his 
return  as  they  were  now?  Most  of  the  lime- 
burners'  clique  never  hereafter  believed  aught  but 
that  this  was  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  the  jug 
gler's  sojourn  in  Etowah  Cove. 

Royce  went  down  the  mountain  flushed  with  vic 
tory.  He  had  descried  a  strong  and  favorable 
revolution  in  popular  sentiment  toward  him,  and 
the  duty  nearest  at  hand  was  to  make  the  illusion 
true  and  lay  siege  to  the  heart  of  Euphemia. 

He  was  not  concerned  as  to  how  his  wooing 
should  speed.  It  was  only  essential  that  it  should 
be  a  demonstration  sufficiently  marked  to  justify  his 
lingering  presence  here  and  sustain  the  impression 
which  he  had  made  on  the  lime-burners.  He  said 
this  again  and  again  to  himself,  to  appease  a  cer 
tain  repugnance  which  he  began  to  experience 
when  the  idea  with  which  he  had  lightly  played 
became  a  definite  and  constraining  course  of  action. 
He  remembered  that  in  reverie  he  had  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  canvass  the  disguise  which  marriage 
might  afford,  settling  him  here  permanently  as  if 
he  were  a  native,  and,  as  time  should  pass,  lessen 
ing  daily  the  chance  of  the  detection  of  his  identity 
and  of  his  life  heretofore.  He  realized  that  for  the 
next  twenty  years  this  discovery  would  be  impend 
ing  at  anymoment.  He  had  a  great  respect  for  the 
truth  as  truth,  and  its  inherent  capacity  for  prevail 
ing  ;  and  this  led  him  to  fear  it  the  more.  A  lie  has 
so  fatal  a  proclivity  to  collapse.  He  had  often  told 


THE   JUGGLER.  197 

himself  that  it  was  the  part  of  policy  to  accept  life 
here  as  one  of  the  mountaineers,  content  with  their 
portion  of  the  good  things  vouchsafed,  the  brand  of 
undeserved  shame  evaded,  the  hardship  of  igno 
minious  imprisonment  eluded,  the  struggle  of  pov 
erty  reduced  to  its  minimum  in  this  Arcadian 
existence  ;  for  sometimes  he  realized  anew,  with 
a  half-dazed  sense,  that  the  old  life  was  indeed 
gone  forever,  —  if  for  naught  else,  by  reason  of 
his  financial  losses  in  the  collapse  of  the  firm  of 
Greenhalge,  Gould  &  Fife. 

He  now  stipulated  within  himself,  however,  that 
this  was  to  be  only  a  feint  of  love-making,  —  a 
flirtation,  he  would  have  termed  it,  were  it  to  be 
illumined  by  wax  candles,  or  the  electric  light, 
or  gas,  in  lieu  of  the  guttering  tallow  dip.  He 
adduced  with  a  sense  of  protection  —  and;  he  could 
not  forbear  a  laugh  at  himself  and  his  sudden  ter 
rors —  the  certainty  with  which  he  had  cause  to 
know  that  the  heart  of  the  fair  daughter  of  the 
miller  was  already  bestowed  on  the  young  "  crank," 
as  he  called  the  man  "  who  was  fool  enough  to  pray 
for  what  he  wanted."  Yet  for  all  it  was  to  be 
only  a  mere  semblance  of  capture,  he  could  but  be 
dubious  of  these  chains  with  which  he  was  about 
to  invest  himself  of  deliberate  intention  ;  heretofore 
he  had  fallen  headlong  in  love  and  headlong  out, 
and  would  not  have  shackled  himself  of  his  own 
volition.  Thus  he  rattled  Cupid's  fetters  tenta 
tively,  timorously,  judging  of  their  weight,  and 
with  a  wish  to  be  safely  out  of  them  as  well  as 
swiftly  into  them. 


198  THE  JUGGLER. 

It  was  but  a  feint,  he  reassured  himself.  On  her 
part,  she  would  have  an  additional  conquest  to 
boast  of  ;  and  as  to  him,  all  the  world  —  of  Etowah 
Cove  —  would  see  with  what  grace  he  would  "  wear 
the  willow-tree." 

"  Since  Phyllis  hath  forsaken  me ! "  he  sang 
airily,  as  he  made  his  way  down  th<>  sharp  declivity. 

Never  in  all  his  mental  exercitations  did  he 
dream  of  difficulty  in  conveying  to  her  intelligence 
an  intimation  of  the  supposed  state  of  his  heart. 
It  had  been  his  experience  that  such  intimations 
are  like  spontaneous  combustion  :  they  take  fire 
from  no  appreciable  provocation.  Nay,  he  had 
known  of  many  wills-o'-the-wisp  in  this  sort,  sug 
gesting  flame  where  there  was  no  fire,  for  it  is  a 
trait  of  the  feminine  creature  to  often  overrate  the 
power  of  her  charms,  and  to  predicate  desolation 
therefrom  in  altogether  thriving  insensible  hearts. 
But  perhaps  because  of  her  absorption  Eupheraia 
took  no  notice  of  a  certain  change  in  his  manner 
toward  her,  which  had  been  heretofore  incidental 
and  non-committal  and  inexpressive.  Mrs.  Sims, 
however,  with  that  alertness  to  which  the  meddler 
in  other  people's  love  affairs  is  ever  prone,  marked 
it  with  inward  perturbation,  lest  it  should  attract 
the  attention  of  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  whose  evident 
antagonism  to  the  juggler  she  had  ascribed  merely 
to  a  perverse  humor.  From  the  beginning,  how 
ever,  Royce  had  found  especial  favor  in  her  eyes, 
—  at  first  because  he  was  so  travel-worn  and  rain- 
soaked,  and  fevered  and  exhausted.  Mrs.  Sims 


THE  JUGGLER.  199 

had  not  experienced  such  solicitude  since  her  only 
child  was  an  ailing  infant.  Although  he  disproved 
her  diagnosis  of  his  illness  and  her  arbitrary  plans 
of  treatment  by  appearing  fresh  and  well  the  next 
morning,  as  if  he  had  been  newly  created,  she  for 
gave  him  his  recovery,  and  liked  him  because  he 
was  so  strong  and  handsome  and  pleasant-spoken, 
and  in  some  vague  way,  to  her  groping  inexperi 
enced  realization  of  the  various  strata  of  human 
beings,  so  different,  and  so  superior,  and  so  capa 
ble  of  appreciating  the  wonderful  Euphemia  that 
he  was  really  to  be  accounted  worthy  of  the  relent 
ing  of  fate  which  permitted  him  to  see  her.  After 
Euphemia's  return  Mrs.  Sims  suffered  a  certain 
disappointment  that  the  young  people  took  such 
scant  notice  of  each  other  in  coming  and  going  the 
household  ways,  and  she  was  wont  to  console  her 
self  now  and  then  by  contemplating  them  furtively 
as  they  sat  opposite,  one  on  each  side  of  the  table, 
and  fetching  the  fattest  of  her  sighs  to  think  what 
a  handsome  couple  they  would  make !  She  re 
membered,  however,  as  in  duty  bound,  Owen 
Haines,  and  perhaps  she  drew  from  this  conscious 
ness  deeper  sighs  than  either  of  the  young  lovers 
could  have  furnished  to  any  occasion.  She  was 
not  so  proud  as  Euphemia,  and  she  thought  that  if 
the  Lord  visited  no  judgment  on  Owen  Haines  for 
his  pertinacity  in  praying  for  the  power,  his  fellow 
saints  or  fellow  sinners  —  whichever  they  might 
be  most  appropriately  called  —  ought  to  be  able  to 
endure  the  ten  minutes  wasted  in  the  experiment 


200  THE  JUGGLER. 

to  win  the  consent  of  Heaven.  But  she  wished 
that  her  prospective  son-in-law  could  be  more  prac 
tical  of  mind.  She  realized  that  Haines  was 
dreamy,  and  that  his  spiritual  aspirations  were 
destined  to  be  thwarted.  They  had  sent  deep 
roots  into  his  nature,  and  she  fancied  that  she 
could  foresee  the  effect  on  his  later  years,  —  years 
pallid,  listless,  forever  yearning  after  a  spiritual 
fantasy  always  denied  ;  forever  reaching  backward 
with  regret  for  the  past  wasted  in  an  unasked  :m<l 
seemingly  a  spurned  service.  Her  motherly  heart 
went  out  to  Owen  Haines,  and  she  would  fain 
have  coddled  him  out  of  his  —  religion,  was  it  ? 
She  did  not  know  ;  she  could  not  argue. 

But  Euphemia  was  her  only  child,  and  it  is  not 
necessary  that  the  materials  shall  be  ivory  and 
gold  and  curious  inlay  to  enable  a  zealous  wor 
shiper  to  set  up  an  idol.  Mrs.  Sims  looked  into 
the  juggler's  handsome  face  with  its  alert  eyes  and 
blithe  mundane  expression,  and  as  proxy  she  loved 
him  so  heartily  that  she  did  not  doubt  his  past, 
nor  carp  at  his  future,  nor  question  his  motives. 
The  fact  of  his  lingering  here  so  long  —  for  he 
had  asked  only  a  night's  lodging,  and  afterward 
had  taken  board  by  the  week  —  occurred  to  her 
more  than  once  as  a  symptom  of  a  sentimental 
interest  in  Euphemia ;  for  otherwise  why  did  he 
not  betake  himself  about  his  affairs  ?  This  theory 
had  languished  recently,  since  naught  developed 
to  support  it. 

Now  when  she  began  to  suspect  that  this  vic.-ui- 


THE  JUGGLER.  201 

ous  sentiment  of  hers  on  Euphemia's  account  was 
about  to  meet  a  return,  Mrs.  Sims's  heart  was  all 
a-flutter  with  anxiety  and  pity  and  secret  exulta 
tion.  One  moment  she  trembled  lest  Euphemia 
should  mark  the  thoughtful  silent  scrutiny  of 
which  she  was  the  subject,  but  when  she  chanced  to 
lift  her  long-lashed  eyes,  the  juggler  reddened  sud 
denly,  averted  his  own,  and  drank  his  coffee  scald 
ing  hot.  Euphemia  evidently  was  oblivious  of  him, 
and  Mrs.  Sims  became  wroth  within  her  amiable- 
seeming  mask,  and  said  to  herself  that  she  would 
as  soon  have  a  dough  child,  since  one  could  "  take 
notice  ez  peart  ez  Phemie."  Perhaps  because  of 
Mrs.  Sims's  superabundant  flesh,  which  rendered 
her  of  a  quiescent  appearance,  however  active  her 
interest,  and  perhaps  because  she  did  not  appeal 
in  any  manner  to  the  ungrateful  juggler's  hyper 
critical  and  finical  prepossessions,  he  had  no  sub 
tle  intimations  that  she  was  cognizant  in  a  degree 
of  his  mental  processes,  and  had  noted  the  fact 
of  the  frequent  serious  dwelling  of  his  eyes,  and 
manifestly  his  thoughts,  upon  Euphemia. 

The  girl  had  never  been  so  beautiful  as  now.  In 
these  later  days,  that  saddened  pride  which  at  once 
subdued  and  sustained  her  added  a  dignity  to  her 
expression  of  which  earlier  it  would  have  been 
incapable.  It  spiritualized  her  exquisite  eyes  ;  so 
often  downcast  they  were  and  so  slowly  lifted  that 
the  length  of  the  thick  dark  lashes  affected  the 
observer  as  a  hitherto  unnoted  element  of  beauty. 
Her  eyes  always  had  a  certain  look  of  expectation, 


202  THE  JUGGLER. 

—  now  starlike  as  with  the  radiance  of  renewing 
hope,  now  pathetic  and  full  of  shadows.  It  seemed 
to  the  juggler,  unconsciously  sympathetic,  that 
those  incomparable  eyes  might  have  conjured  the 
man  bodily  into  the  road  where  they  looked  so 
wistfully  to  see  him,  so  vainly. 

"  Confound  the  fellow !  "  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Why  does  n't  he  come  ?  I  'd  like  to  hale  him 
here  by  the  long  hair  of  that  tow  head  of  his  —  if 
she  wants  to  see  him."  And  his  heart  glowed 
with  resentment  against  poor  Owen  Haines,  who 
thought  in  his  folly  that  a  woman's  "  No  "  is  to  be 
classed  among  the  recognized  forms  of  .negation, 
and  was  realizing  on  far  Chilhowee  all  the  bitter 
ness  of  rejected  love  and  denied  prayers. 

After  a  while  Royce  despaired  of  drawing  her 
attention  to  himself, — he  who  had  been  in  lii> 
own  circle  the  cynosure  of  all  youthful  eyes. 
"  There 's  nothing  in  the  world  so  stupid  as  a  girl 
in  love,"  he  moralized,  irritated  at  last. 

This  state  of  unwilling  obscurity  developed  in 
him  a  degree  of  perversity.  He  was  prepared  to 
assume  an  attitude  of  lowly  admiration,  of  humble 
subservience,  the  kiss-the-hein-of-your-robe-save-for- 
the-foolishness-of-it  sort  of  look  which  might  im 
press  her  and  the  rest  of  the  Sims  family  and  all 
admiring  spectators  with  the  fact  of  how  stuck 
full  of  Cupid's  arrows  he  had  now  become.  But 
no  man  can  play  the  role  of  lover,  however  lamely, 
when  the  lady  of  his  adoration  notices  him  no 
more  than  a  piece  of  furniture. 


THE  JUGGLER.  203 

As  he  went  through  the  passage  one  day,  she 
happened  to  be  there  alone,  tilted  back  in  her 
chair  against  the  wall,  her  small  feet  upon  one  of 
the  rungs,  her  curls  stirring  in  the  breeze,  droning 
laboriously  aloud  from  the  Third  Reader,  the 
pride  and  limit  of  her  achievement. 

"  Here,"  he  said  cavalierly,  reaching  out  and 
taking  the  book  quickly  from  her  hand,  "  let  me 
show  you  how  /read  that." 

Now  elocution  had  been  one  of  the  versatile  jug 
gler's  chief  accomplishments.  He  read  the  simple 
stanzas  in  a  style  of  much  finish.  His  voice  was  of 
a  quality  smooth  as  velvet,  and  his  power  of  enun 
ciation  had  been  trained  to  that  degree  that  its 
cultivation  was  apparent  only  in  the  results,  and 
might  have  seemed  a  natural  endowment,  so  scan 
tily  was  the  idea  of  effort  suggested.  His  special 
and  individual  capacity  lay  in  the  subtle  inflec 
tions  of  tone,  which  elicited  from  the  verses  mean 
ings  hitherto  undreamed  of  by  her.  It  was  as  if  a 
stone  had  been  flung  into  still  water.  Above  these 
suddenly  interjected  new  interpretations  the  circles 
of  thought  widened  from  one  elastic  remove  to 
another,  and  Euphemia  sat  dazed  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  these  diverse  whorls  and  concentric  convolu 
tions  of  the  obvious  idea.  She  said  nothing  as  he 
handed  back  the  book  with  an  elaborate  ballroom 
bow,  but  gazed  up  at  him  with  an  absorbed,  serious 
face,  all  softened  and  gently  appealing  like  a  be 
wildered  child's,  and  then  fixed  her  eyes  intently 
upon  the  page,  as  if  seeking  to  find  and  hold  those 


204  THE  JUGGLER. 

transient  illusions  of  fickle  fancy  that  had  glim 
mered  so  alluringly  through  the  plain,  manifest 
text.  He  left  her  thus  as  he  put  on  his  hat  and 
stepped  out  upon  the  path  leading  down  the  slope. 
He  glanced  back  once,  to  see  her  still  sitting  there, 
motionless  but  for  the  wind  which  swayed  the  fair 
loosely  curled  hair  of  her  bent  head  and  the  folds 
of  her  faint  green  dress  as  it  did  the  sprays  of  the 
vines  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  passage,  which 
grew  so  thick  that  they  formed  a  dark  background 
for  her  figure  in  the  cool  shadowy  green  dusk; 
otherwise  he  might  not  have  been  able  to  distinguish 
it  from  out  the  glare  and  glister  of  the  open  sunny 
space  where  he  stood.  He  gazed  unobserved  for  a 
moment ;  then  he  turned  and  went  on  in  much  dis 
satisfaction  of  spirit.  It  was  no  way,  he  argued 
within  himself,  to  assume  the  character  of  a  lovesick 
swain  by  demonstrating  his  superiority  to  the  fair 
maiden,  —  to  flout  her  poor  and  painful  efforts  by 
the  exhibition  of  his  glib  accomplishment.  "  I 
must  needs  always  have  an  audience,  —  be  always 
exhibiting  my  various  feats  and  knacks.  I  was 
born  a  juggler,"  he  said  ruefully. 

But  that  evening  when  they  sat  at  supper,— 
much  later  than  usual,  since  the  favorite  Spot  had 
wandered  far  into  the  forest,  and  did  not  return  till 
she  was  sought  and  found  and  driven  reluctantly 
home,  with  many  pauses  by  the  way,  —  the  furtive 
glances  across  the  table  did  not  emigrate  from  his 
side  of  it.  The  meal  was  served  in  the  main  room 
of  the  cabin,  to  avoid  the  cloud  of  moths  which  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  205 

light  outside  in  the  passage  would  attract.  In  the 
white,  languid,  dispirited  glow  of  the  tallow  dip 
the  furnishings  of  the  apartment  were  but  dimly 
visible.  Now  and  again  the  flicker  of  the  wind  set 
astir  the  pendent  strings  of  pepper  and  bunches  of 
dried  herbs  and  various  indiscriminate  gear  that 
swung  from  the  beams.  The  red  embers  where 
the  supper  had  been  cooked  were  spread  apart 
on  the  hearth  that  the  heat  might  be  lessened,  and 
here  and  there  through  the  white  efflorescence  of 
the  ash  only  a  tinge  of  the  vermilion  hues  of  the 
coals  could  be  discerned.  Despite  its  subdued  red 
glare  the  failing  fire  had  little  irradiating  effect, 
and  added  scantily  to  the  cheer  of  the  apartment. 
The  batten  shutter  flapped  back  and  forth  with  a 
wooden  clamor  ;  the  wind  had  brought  clouds  and 
rain  impended,  and  Tubal  Cain  Sims's  corn  was 
not  yet  all  planted,  and  the  ground  would  probably 
be  too  wet  to  plough  for  a  week  or  more.  Grurn 
and  indignant  because  of  this  possible  dispensation 
of  Providence,  he  sat  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  with  his 
shock  head  bent,  only  looking  up  from  under  his 
grizzled  shaggy  eyebrows  to  discern  in  the  glimmer 
of  the  candle  the  food  he  wanted,  and  only  speak 
ing  to  growl  for  it.  The  one  crumb  of  comfort  he 
coveted  was  denied  him.  A  certain  johnny-cake 
had  burnt  up  "  bodaciously "  on  its  board  as  it 
baked  before  the  fire,  and  it  would  seem  that  Tu 
bal  Cain  Sims,  from  his  youth  up,  had  subsisted 
solely  on  the  hope  of  this  most  dainty  of  rural 
cates,  so  surlily  did  he  receive  the  news,  and  so 


206  THE  JUGGLER. 

solemnly  did  he  demand  to  be  told  how  in  the 
name  of  Moses  a  cake  that  never  was  put  near  the 
fire,  but  baked  by  the  heat  thrown  on  the  hearth, 
could  be  reduced  to  cinders. 

"  Witched  soinehows,  I  reckon,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Sims  easily  ;  and  since  argument  could  not  move 
that  massive  lady,  Tubal  Cain  resorted  to  silent 
sulks,  not  in  the  vain  hope  of  shaking  her  equili 
brium,  but  for  the  sake  of  their  own  solace  to  the 
affronted  spirit. 

Although  this  disaster  chanced  within  Euphe- 
mia's  own  jurisdiction  and  beneath  her  prosidial 
care,  she  took  no  part  in  the  spirited  colloquy  on 
the  subject,  but  seemed  absorbed  in  thought,  ever 
and  anon  casting  a  covert  look  at  the  young  man. 
As  of  late  he  had  fallen  into  the  habit,  with  the 
opportunity  afforded  at  meal-times,  of  contemplat 
ing  her  with  swift  and  furtive  glances,  more  than 
once  their  eyes  met,  to  tho  visible  embarrassment 
of  both  ;  the  juggler,  to  his  astonishment,  coloring 
furiously  as  might  any  country  boy,  and  a  touch  of 
surprise  and  almost  inquiry  becoming  visible  in  the 
eyes  of  Euphemia.  Strange  that  so  poor  and  primi 
tive  a  contrivance  as  a  pallid  tallow  dip  could  Mi 
such  stars  of  radiant  beauty  in  those  long-lashed 
pensive  orbs.  They  looked  bewilderingly  lovely  to 
the  young  man  as  they  were  suddenly  fixed  upon 
him,  intent  with  the  first  intimation  of  personal  in 
terest  which  he  had  ever  discerned  in  their  depths. 

"  How  long  hev  you-uns  hed  schoolin'  ? "  she 
demanded  abruptly. 


THE  JUGGLER.  207 

"  Schooling  ?  I  ?  Oh  yes.  From  the  time  I  was 
six  years  old  till  I  was  twenty-two,"  he  replied. 

Her  face  was  a  study  of  amazement.  "  Did 
school  keep  reg'lar  all  them  years  in  the  cove  whar 
you-uns  lived  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh  yes,  school  kept  as  regular  as  taxes."  He 
had  half  a  mind  to  explain  that  it  was  not  always 
the  same  institution  which  had  the  honor  of  train 
ing  his  youthful  faculties,  and  to  enumerate  the 
various  gradations  which  had  their  share  in  his 
proficiency,  from  the  kindergarten,  and  the  gram 
mar  school,  to  the  academic  and  collegiate  career ; 
but  he  stopped  short,  reflecting  that  this  might 
result  in  self-betrayal  in  some  sort. 

Her  mind  was  at  work.  Her  eyes  and  face  were 
troubled.  "We-uns  hev  hed  school  in  the  Cove 
two  years  consider'ble  time  ago,"  she  remarked. 
"  They  'low  the  money  air  short,  somehows." 

"That  ain't  no  differ  ter  we-uns,"  said  Mrs. 
Sims  cheerily.  "  Phemie  1'arned  all  thar  is  ter 
know." 

Even  old  Tubal  Cain  threw  off  dull  care  for  a 
moment  and  vouchsafed  a  prideful  refrain  :  "  I 
'lowed  the  chile  would  put  out  her  eyes  studyin' 
an'  readin'  so  constant,  but  she  hev  got  her  eyesight 
and  her  1'arnin'  too." 

But  Phemie's  face  was  flushed  with  a  sudden 
painful  glow.  "  I  ain't  got  ez  much  ez  some,"  she 
faltered,  her  head  drooping  slightly. 

In  the  midst  of  the  clamor  of  denial  of  any 
greater  possible  proficiency,  from  the  two  old  peo- 


208  THE   JUGGLER. 

pie,  who  had  not  heard  the  juggler's  reading  during 
the  afternoon,  she  involuntarily  cast  upon  him  so 
appealing,  so  disarming  a  glance  that  for  once  he 
was  ashamed  to  even  secretly  laugh  at  them. 

"  If  it 's  erudition  that  goes,"  he  said  afterward, 
lighting  his  pipe  under  the  stars  and  finding  the 
grace  to  laugh  instead  at  himself,  "  I  am  the 
learned  man  to  suit  the  occasion." 


VIII. 

EUPHEMIA'S  interest  did  not  relax.  What 
strange  perversity  of  fate  was  it  that  this  little 
clod  of  humanity,  so  humbly  placed,  upon  the  very 
ground  of  existence,  as  it  were,  should  have  been 
instinct  with  that  high,  keen,  fine  appreciation  of 
learning  for  its  own  sake  ?  —  for  she  knew  naught 
of  its  more  sordid  rewards,  and  could  not  have 
dreamed  that  the  relative  estimation  of  these 
values,  even  by  those  of  happiest  opportunities, 
is  often  reversed,  the  reward  making  the  worth  of 
the  learning.  She  did  not  realize  an  aspiration. 
Her  wings  simply  fluttered  because  she  felt  the 
impulse  to  rise.  Royce  could  not  have  conceived 
of  aught  more  densely  ignorant.  He  had  known 
no  mind  more  naturally  intelligent.  Its  acquisi 
tiveness  hardly  differentiated  its  objects  ;  it  only 
grasped  them.  The  Third  Reader  bade  fair  to  be 
come  a  burden.  He  could  scarcely  put  his  foot  on 
the  sill  of  the  passage  before  he  heard  the  flutter  of 
its  leaves,  and  the  much-thumbed,  dog-eared  old 
volume  was  offered  to  his  hand  with  the  restrained 
enthusiasm  of  the  remark,  "  Ye  '11  hev  time  ter  read 
a  piece  afore  dinner,"  or  supper,  or  bedtime,  as  the 
case  might  be.  There  was  a  certain  embarrassment 
in  these  symposia.  Mrs.  Sims,  it  is  true,  looked 


210  THE  JUGGLER. 

on  smilingly,  with  her  vicarious  affection  shining 
in  her  eyes,  but  a  chance  question  developed  the 
fact  that  she  understood  hardly  one  word  out  of 
ten,  the  vocabulary  of  ignorance  being  of  most 
constricting  limitations ;  while  Tubal  Sims  openly 
and  gruffly  sneered  down  the  performance,  tossing 
his  shock  head  at  every  conclusion,  and  protesting 
that  the  young  man  read  so  fast,  an'  with  so  many 
ups  an'  downs,  an'  with  such  a  clippin'  an'  bob- 
tailiif  of  his  words  that  it  was  pluml>  ridir'lous. 
For  him,  give  him  good  Scriptur'  readin',  slow  an' 
percise,  like  the  1'arned  men  in  the  p\\\-pit.  Did 
Pa'son  Tynes  read  in  that  flibberty-gibberty  way  ? 
He  reckoned  not.  And  he  wagged  his  head  as  if 
he  would  fain  take  his  oath  on  that,  the  spirit  of 
affirmation  so  possessed  him.  Moreover,  Royce 
did  not  consider  this  Third  Reader  a  particularly 
meritorious  compilation  ;  he  often  flung  its  pages 
back  and  fo,rth  in  vain  search  of  a  satisfactory 
selection,  and  doubtless  would  have  declined  to 
waste  the  merits  of  his  rendering  on  the  least  vapid 
had  it  not  been  for  the  submissive,  expectant  face 
of  Euphemia,  as  she  sat  waiting  in  her  chair,  bolt 
upright,  school-wise,  with  her  hands  clasped  in  her 
lap,  the  subdued  radiance  of  her  oyrs  r:iji:il>K-  of 
making  a  much  wiser  man  do  a  more  foolish  thing. 
For  his  own  sake  —  he  did  not  dream  of  the  possi 
bility  of  the  development  of  her  taste  —  he  would 
fain  have  had  a  wider  choice  that  his  delicate  per 
ceptions  might  suffer  no  despite,  and  one  day  he 
bethought  himself  of  the  resources  of  memory. 


THE  JUGGLER.  211 

The  young  people  were  both  down  at  the  mill. 
Some  domestic  errand  had  brought  Euphemia 
there,  and  he  chanced  to  be  on  a  ledge  near  at 
hand  languidly  essaying  to  fish.  He  asked  her  a 
question  touching  the  further  course  of  the  stream 
and  the  locality  of  a  notable  fishing-ground  further 
down.  As  she  replied,  she  paused  and  stood  ex 
pectantly  in  the  doorway,  dangling  her  green  sun- 
bonnet  by  the  string. 

The  mill  was  silent,  as  was  its  wont;  the  after 
noon  sunlight  glinted  through  the  dense  laurel  and 
the  sparse  spring  foliage  of  the  deciduous  trees; 
the  great  cliff  on  a  ledge  of  which  Royce  was 
standing  beetled  above  the  smooth  flow  of  the 
stream.  Many  a  fissure  broke  the  massive  walls 
of  stone;  here  herbage  grew  and  vines  swung,  and 
the  mould  was  moist  and  fragrant ;  the  perfume  of 
the  wild  cherry  tree  in  a  niche  on  the  summit  filled 
all  the  air.  Close  by,  a  great  sycamore  which  had 
fallen  in  a  storm  stretched  from  one  bank  to  the 
other :  its  white  bark  and  bare  branches  were  re 
flected  in  the  clear  water  with  wondrous  fidelity ; 
even  a  redbird  with  his  tufted  crest,  as  he  fluttered 
and  strutted  up  and  down  the  white  boughs,  now 
and  again  uttering  sharp  cries  of  alarm ;  and  even 
a  nest  in  a  crotch,  and  his  sober-hued  little  brown- 
feathered  mate  with  her  head,  devoid  of  any  deco 
ration  in  the  way  of  unnecessary  and  vainglorious 
tufts,  stretched  far  out  in  anxiety  and  trembling. 

Euphemia  pointed  out  these  reflections  in  the 
water,  and  after  another  long  pause,  "Ef  we-uns 


212  THE  JUGGLER. 

hed  the  book  now,  ye  could  read,"  she  sighed  re 
gretfully. 

He  played  his  line  negligently ;  he  cast  his  eyes 
to  the  far,  far  sky,  as  if  his  memory  dwelt  on  high. 
Then  he  began  to  recite.  The  wind  stirred  in  the 
trees;  on  the  dark  lustrous  water  a  shimmer  of 
sunshine  fluctuated  like  some  ethereal  golden  mesh. 
Once,  the  joy  of  spring  and  the  bliss  of  love  and 
the  buoyancy  of  life  overcame  the  fear  in  the  mi- 
bird's  heart,  and  he  sang  out  suddenly,  as  if  he 
too  would  have  to  do  with  the  poetry  of  thought 
and  the  melody  of  utterance,  and  the  little  brown 
bird  hi  the  nest  listened  in  admiring  silence.  All 
the  time  Royce  was  conscious  of  Euphemia's 
amazed  eyes  on  his  face;  when  he  had  finished  he 
could  scarce  trust  himself  to  meet  the  muU-  nij'tmv 
of  her  gaze.  He  looked  down  at  his  futile  line 
dragging  on  the  water,  and  among  the  sounds  of 
the  sibilantly  lapsing  currents  and  the  leaves 
wafted  by  the  wind  he  heard  her  long-drawn  sigh 
of  the  relaxing  of  the  tension  of  delight,  and  he 
turned  and  met  her  eyes  with  a  laugh  in  his  own 
in  which  there  was  only  a  gentle  mirth. 

After  this  he  had  no  peace.  He  was  reminded 
of  the  importunacy  of  juvenile  consumers  of  sto 
ries,  whose  interest  seems  whetted  by  the  incapa 
city  to  read  and  thus  purvey  romance  for  their 
own  delectation.  He  found  it  conducive  to  his 
entertainment  to  relapse  into  prose,  and  he  re 
hearsed  many  a  work  of  fiction  from  memory,  fail 
ing  seldom  of  the  details,  but  in  such  lapses  as 


THE  JUGGLER.  213 

must  needs  come  boldly  supplying  the  deficit  by 
invention.  It  is  true  that  in  these  recitals  Euphe- 
mia  was  debarred  the  graces  of  the  style  of  the 
authors,  but  then  the  juggler  thought  he  had  a 
very  good  style  of  his  own.  All  this  involved  long 
digressions,  historical,  geographical,  astronomical, 
political,  to  explain  the  status  of  the  personnel  or 
the  locus  in  quo;  and  while  he  talked  her  eyes 
never  left  his  face.  He  had  a  habit  of  looking 
straight  at  his  interlocutor,  whoever  this  might  be, 
and  it  was  thus,  perhaps,  that  he  could  with  such 
distinctness  conjure  the  image  of  those  eyes  of 
hers  upon  the  retina  of  his  mind  at  moments  of 
darkness  or  absence  or  reverie,  as  he  would.  Much 
that  he  said  she  could  not  at  first  comprehend,  and 
again  he  was  reminded  of  the  inquisitors  of  the 
nursery  in  the  multitude  and  unsparingness  of  her 
questions;  only,  so  searching  and  keen  and  apt 
were  these  that  sometimes  there  was  an  experience 
of  surprise  and  pleasure  on  his  part. 

"I  tell  you,  Phemie,"  he  said  one  day,  "you 
are  most  awfully  clever  to  have  seen  that." 

The  blood  rushed  to  her  cheeks  in  the  joy,  the 
triumph,  of  his  commendation.  Pride,  the  love  of 
preeminence,  the  possession  of  worthy  endowment, 
—  these  sentiments  were  her  soul,  the  ethereal 
essence  of  her  life.  She  had  no  definite  ambition ; 
she  had  no  definite  mental  paths.  She  had  groped 
in  the  primeval  wildernesses  of  mind,  as  if  there 
had  been  no  splendid  line  of  pioneers  who  had 
blazed  out  a  road  for  all  the  centuries  to  come. 


214  THE  JUGGLER. 

In  the  midst  of  his  utter  idleness,  in  the  turmoil 
of  his  troublous  thoughts,  this  review  of  the  litera 
ture  that  had  been  dear  to  him  was  at  first  a  re 
source  and  a  distraction,  and  Liter  it  became  a 
luxury.  He  began  to  be  only  less  eager  than  she 
to  resume  the  discourse  where  it  had  left  off. 
Thus  it  was  that  he  joined  her  in  sundry  domestic 
duties,  so  that  while  mechanically  busy  they  might 
be  mentally  free,  in  Scotland,  or  Norway,  or  Rus 
sia,  or  on  the  wild,  wild  seas.  He  was  wont  to  go 
with  her  to  drive  up  the  cows;  and  surely  nc\«  r 
in  such  company  did  the  old  fancies  tread  this  N«  \\ 
World  soil,  —  knights  in  armor  and  ladies  fair  and 
all  the  glittering  hordes  of  chivalry  crowding  the 
narrow  aisles  of  the  wilderness,  and  following  hard 
the  fairies  and  demons  of  many  an  antique  legend. 
Once  on  the  summit  of  a  crag  he  looked  out  upon 
the  world  beyond  the  Cove,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  arrival  here.  Fair,  oh,  very  fair  it  was, 
in  the  yellow  haze  of  the  declining  springtide  sun 
shine,  and  far  it  stretched  in  promissory  lengths, 
like  all  the  vague  possibilities  of  the  future.  Paral 
lel  with  the  massive  green  heights  near  at  hand  ran 
others  growing  amethystine  of  hue,  showing  many 
a  gray  cliff  and  many  a  gleam  of  silver  mountain 
streams  winding  amongst  the  divergent  spurs  and 
ravines  and  coves.  Beyond  lay  the  levels  of  a  great 
valley,  and  here  were  brown  stretches  of  ploughed 
fields,  and  here  gleamed  the  emerald  of  winter 
wheat,  and  here  swept  the  splendid  free  curves  of 
the  Tennessee  River,  flowing  the  color  of  burnished 


THE  JUGGLER.  215 

copper,  so  did  the  sunlight  idealize  the  hue  of  the 
spring  floods,  between  the  keen  high  tints  of  the 
green  foliage  fringing  its  banks  where  the  rocks 
failed.  To  the  north  a  thousand  minor  ridges 
continued  the  parallelism  which  marks  the  great 
mountain  system,  and  these  were  azure  of  an  in 
describably  exquisite  and  languorous  shade,  rising 
into  a  silver  haze  that  was  itself  like  an  illumination. 
And  where  it  seemed  that  the  limits  of  vision 
must  surely  be  reached,  the  abrupt  steeps  of  the 
eastern  side  of  Walden's  Ridge,  stretching  diago 
nally  across  the  whole  breadth  of  the  State,  shad 
owy  purple,  reflecting  naught  of  the  sunset,  rose 
against  the  west,  and  there  the  sunr  all  alive  with 
scarlet  fire,  was  tending  downward,  with  only  one 
vermilion  flake  of  a  cloud  in  all  the  blue  and 
pearly-green  and  amber  crystal  sky.  He  paused 
on  the  verge  of  the  cliff  and  gazed  at  it  all,  while 
she  stood  and  looked  expectantly  at  him.  Perhaps 
with  her  woman's  intuition  she  divined  that  this 
moment  was  in  some  sort  a  crisis  in  his  mind. 
She  was  inexplicably  agitated,  breathless.  But  as 
he  gazed  his  heart  did  not  stir  the  faster.  Here 
and  there  he  marked  a  brilliant  slant  of  glitter 
where  a  steeple  caught  the  sun,  now  to  the  north 
and  again  to  the  southwest,  beyond  a  space  a  hand 
might  seem  to  cover,  but  which  he  knew  measured 
fifty  or  a  hundred  miles.  These  indicated  towns. 
There  beat  the  full  pulses  of  the  life  he  had  left; 
and  still  at  sight  of  them  his  heart  did  not  plunge. 
He  looked  down  at  her  with  an  expression  in  his 


216  THE  JUGGLER. 

eyes  all  new  to  them  and  which  she  could  not 
interpret.  Nevertheless  it  set  her  happy  heart 
a-flutter.  Nothing  was  said  of  the  view,  and  with 
one  accord  they  sat  down  on  the  verge  of  the  cliff. 
His  boots  dangled  over  the  sheer  spaces  a  thousand 
feet  below,  but  he  could  not  repress  a  shiver  at 
her  attitude  as  she  leaned  over  the  brink  of  the 
precipice. 

"I  wish  you  would  move  farther  back  from  the 
edge,"  he  said,  with  a  corrugated  brow.  "I  am 
afraid  you  may  slip  over,  you  are  so  little,  and  " 

"That  would  put  an  e-end  to  the  readings 
mighty  quick,"  she  said,  as  she  still  leaned  over  to 
peer  down  at  the  tops  of  the  trees  in  the  valley, 
and  he  turned  sick  and  dizzy  at  her  very  gesture. 
He  hardly  dared  to  speak  lest  an  unconsidered 
word  might  flutter  her  nerves  and  cause  her  to 
lose  her  hold.  She  had  no  intention  of  thus  teas 
ing  his  vicarious  fright,  but  drew  back  presently 
to  a  safe  distance.  "Wouldn't  it?"  she  asked, 
recurring  to  her  remark  as  she  executed  this  ma 
noeuvre. 

"You  mean  if  you  should  slip  over  into  this 
dreadful  abyss?  I  should  never,  never  have  the 
heart  to  read  another  word  as  long  as  I  should 
live!"  he  protested. 

He  caught  the  look  of  exultant  joy  in  her  sur 
prised  and  widely  opened  eyes  for  one  moment, 
and  then  she  turned  them  discreetly  on  the  splen 
did  vastness  of  that  great  landscape  in  its  happiest 
mood.  He  realized  that  she  had  no  difficulty  in 


THE  JUGGLER.  217 

comprehending  the  obvious  inference.  Her  expe 
rience  as  a  rural  beauty  and  belle  heretofore  had 
doubtless  served  to  acquaint  her  with  the  hyper 
bole  of  a  lover's  language.  There  were  Haines 
and  Ormsby  within  his  own  knowledge,  and  he 
could  not  guess  how  many  suitors  hitherto,  —  con 
found  them  all!  he  muttered  as  he  thought  of 
them.  He  had  not  intended  to  win  her  heart.  In 
view  of  her  feeling  for  Owen  Haines  he  had  not 
deemed  it  possible.  With  the  suspicion,  which  he 
would  fain  call  realization,  for  it  had  all  the  im- 
portunacy  of  hope,  he  experienced  a  rush  of  ela 
tion,  of  soft  delight,  which  amazed  him,  while  it 
almost  swept  him  off  his  feet.  Had  not  he  too 
fallen  in  love  during  his  "readings"?  —  for  thus 
they  both  called  his  recitals.  He  knew  that  he 
had  only  to  look  into  her  eyes  to  make  his  heart 
flutter;  but  then  it  was  a  susceptible  heart  and 
easily  stirred.  She  had  grown  dear  to  him  in 
many  ways,  and  he  had  learned  this  even  when  he 
did  not  dream  of  other  result  of  their  companion 
ship  than  the  broadcast  impression  that  he  lingered 
here  for  her  sake.  He  began  to  strive  to  separate 
his  ideal  of  womanhood  from  those  merely  arbi 
trary  values  which  fashion  and  artificial  life  be 
stow.  Is  it  a  French  man  milliner  only  who  es 
tablishes  the  criterion  of  beauty  ?  He  had  but  to 
glance  at  the  face  and  form  beside  him.  She  was 
beautiful;  she  was  good;  she  was  of  a  singularly 
strong  and  individual  character ;  her  natural  mind 
was  quick  and  retentive  and  discerning,  and  of  a 


218  THE  JUGGLER. 

remarkable  aptness.  She  was  so  endowed  with  a 
keen  perception  of  real  excellence  that  knowledge 
had  but  to  open  its  doors  to  her,  for  she  possessed 
as  a  gift  the  capacity  of  worthy  choice.  She  loved 
with  spontaneous  affection  those  things  which  other 
people  are  trained  to  love;  she  seized  on  the  best 
of  her  own  devout  accord,  unaware  of  aught  of 
significance  save  her  own  preference.  She  could 
easily  acquire  all  he  could  teach  her.  With  her 
quick  grasp  and  greed  of  learning  there  would 
soon  be  little  disparity.  He  began  to  meditate  on 
the  arbitrary  methods  of  appraisement  in  the 
world.  How  sadly  do  we  richly  rate,  not  our  own 
preference,  but  that  which  is  valued  by  others: 
hence  the  vyings,  the  heart-burnings,  the  ignoble 
strife,  the  false  pride,  of  many  mundane  miseries. 
He  knew  her  real  identity.  Her  nature  would 
befit  any  station.  Her  beauty,  —  even  the  refer 
ence  to  the  immutable  standards  of  his  own  world 
could  avail  no  detraction  here,  —  it  was  preemi 
nent.  Having  lived  his  life  in  one  sphere,  why 
should  he,  being  dead  to  it  forever,  let  its  rigid 
conventionalities  follow  him  into  his  new  world? 
As  to  the  coming  years  and  the  monotony  of 
rounding  out  a  long  life  in  this  narrow  circuit,  let 
the  coming  years  take  thought  for  themselves. 
For  a  moment  the  words  pressed  to  his  lips.  Then 
he  realized  that  this  was  no  ordinary  self -commit 
tal.  To  pledge  himself  to  marry  a  woman  of  her 
degree  in  life  —  an  ignorant  mountain  girl  of  an 
inexpressible  rusticity  and  lack  of  sophistication, 


THE  JUGGLER.  219 

as  far  removed  from  a  comprehension  of  the  con 
ventions  in  which  he  had  been  reared  and  the  cul 
tivated  ideals  still  dear  to  him  as  if  she  were  a 
denizen  of  a  different  planet  —  was  a  serious  step 
indeed ;  he  winced,  and  was  silent. 

This  day  marked  a  change.  When  they  reached 
home  the  sky  was  red,  and  a  white  star  was  alight 
in  the  zenith.  Spot  stood  lowing  at  the  bars,  and 
Mrs.  Sims' s  dimples  deeply  indented  her  plump 
ness  as  she  addressed  the  young  people  in  pre 
tended  reproof. 

"I  sent  you-uns  arter  Spot.  From  now  on  I 
be  a-goin'  ter  sen'  Spot  arter  you-uns." 

Summoned  by  the  sound  of  her  chuckle  out  came 
briskly  Tubal  Cain,  venomous  with  fault-finding 
and  repining.  "Hyar  ye  be,  Euphemy  Sims,"  he 
said,  more  harshly  than  he  had  ever  before  spoken 
to  her,  "a-foolin'  away  yer  time  huntin'  fur  a  cow 
what  war  standin'  at  the  bars  sence  long  'fore  sun 
down,  ez  sensible  ez  grown  folks,  an'  Pa'son  Tynes 
a-settin'  an'  a-settin'  hyar  waitin'  ter  see  ye." 

Euphemia  answered  with  an  affronted  coolness : 
"Pa'son  Tynes?  An'  what  do  I  keer  ter  see 
Pa'son  Tynes  fur?" 

"Pa'son  Tynes  keer  ter  see  you-uns,  Phemie: 
that 's  what  makes  yer  dad  hop  roun'  like  a  pea 
on  a  hot  shovel,"  said  Mrs.  Sims. 

Royce  began  to  have  an  illuminating  sense  that 
"Daddy  Sims"  was  flattered  to  have  so  distin 
guished  a  guest  as  Pa'son  Tynes,  with  his  wide 
spread  oratorical  fame,  awaiting  by  the  hour  Eu- 


220  THE  JUGGLER. 

phemia's  return,  and  that  he  could  hardly  forgive 
his  idol  that  these  precious  moments  had  been 
wasted  in  the  juggler's  society.  Royce  perceived 
the  farcical  antithesis  of  the  theory  which  he  had 
been  arguing  all  the  afternoon,  and  realized  that 
there  are  arbitrary  gradations  in  less  sophisti 
cated  society  than  that  on  which  he  had  predi 
cated  the  proposition.  He  felt  very  small  in 
deed,  being  thus  called  upon  to  look  up  to  Pa'son 
Tynes. 

"I  dunno  what  he  be  wantin'  ter  see  me  fur," 
said  Euphemia,  still  with  the  resentment  of  being 
esteemed  dilatory,  and  evidently  apprehending  a 
purpose  in  the  call  other  than  the  enjoyment  of 
her  conversation. 

"Me  nuther,"  chuckled  Mrs.  Sims;  "you-uns 
bein'  sech  a  outdacious  ugly  gal  ez  all  the  men- 
folks  be  compelled  ter  shade  thar  eyes  whenst  ye 
kem  about." 

Mrs.  Sims's  vicarious  coquetry  was  unblush- 
ingly  fickle.  She  did  not  wait  for  Euphemia  to 
be  quit  of  the  old  love  before  she  was  on  with  the 
new.  Nay,  in  the  very  presence  of  the  superseded 
swain  she  prospectively  and  speculatively  flirted 
with  his  problematic  successor. 

"A  plague  on  all  fat  old  women!  "  thought  the 
juggler,  ill  at  ease  and  out  of  countenance. 

"I  hev  got  my  religion,"  said  Euphemia  stiffly, 
her  pride  revolting  at  the  idea  that  perchance 
Pa'son  Tynes  had  presumed  her  to  be  still  uncon 
verted,  and  that  his  call  was  pastoral.  "  I  dunno 


THE  JUGGLER.  221 

what  he  kin  be  a-comin'  pesterin'  round  about  me 
fur." 

"Waal, "said  her  mother,  still  chuckling, "he  be 
a-comiii'  agin  ter-morrer  ter  see  you-uns.  He  axed 
me  special  ter  keep  ye  home  ter  view  him  —  no, 
that  was  n't  the  way;  he  knows  thar  's  better  things 
ter  be  viewed  in  this  world  'n  a  lantern -jawed, 
tallow-faced  preacher-man,  though  from  thar  own 
account  thar  '11  be  a  power  o'  nangels  featured  like 
that  in  heaven  —  he  axed  me  special  ter  keep  ye 
home  till  he  could  mew  you-uns ! "  And  Mrs. 
Sims's  chuckle  of  enjoyment  broke  from  its  habit 
ual  bounds  and  into  the  jolliest  of  obese  laughter. 
It  might  have  been  termed  infectious  had  any  one 
present  been  sufficiently  in  spirits  to  be  suscep 
tible  to  its  influence.  The  juggler  was  discon 
certed  and  strangely  cast  down ;  Euphemia,  doubt 
ful,  antagonistic,  prophetically  affronted;  and  old 
Tubal  Cain's  interest  still  hinged  on  the  topics 
of  the  conversation  during  the  several  hours  while 
he  had  borne  the  parson  somewhat  weary  company. 

"He  hev  hed  great  grace  in  the  pertracted  meet- 
in',"  her  father  rattled  on,  still  flustered  by  the 
occurrence.  "He  hev  converted  fifteen  sinners; 
some  hardened  cases,  too.  An'  he  hev  preached 
wunst  a  day  reg'lar,  an'  sometimes  twict." 

"Let  him  go  preach  some  mo',  then,"  retorted 
Euphemia,  vaguely  resentful. 

She  was  silent  during  the  serving  of  supper, 
carrying  her  head  high,  with  her  cheeks  flushed 
and  her  eyes  alight.  Royce's  glance  forbore  to 


222  THE  JUGGLER. 

follow  her.  He  ate  little,  and  with  a  downcast, 
thoughtful  mien  he  found  his  pipe  after  supper 
and  took  it  out  upon  the  rocky  slope  that  led  to 
the  river.  The  moon  was  up;  long,  glamourous 
slants  of  light  lay  athwart  the  Cove;  tin-  *hadows 
of  the  pines  were  dense  along  the  slope,  but 
through  their  fringed  branches  the  light  filtered 
like  a  shower  of  molten  silver.  The  river  was 
here  touched  with  a  crystalline  glitter,  and  here 
a  lustrous  darkness  told  of  its  shaded  depths. 
Looking  across  the  levels  of  the  Cove,  one  had  a 
sense  of  the  dew  in  the  glister  and  sparkle  of  the 
humid  leaves.  Above  all  rose  the  encompassing 
mountains,  imposing,  dark,  and  stern.  Tin-  little 
log  cabin  with  the  swaying  hopvines  and  the  win 
dow  flaringly  alight,  and  the  glittering  reflection 
so  far  in  the  swift  current  below,  had  its  idyllic 
suggestions  in  the  moonlight,  but  he  wa.s  not  alive 
to  the  interests  of  the  picturesque  in  humble  envi 
ronment,  and  had  no  fibre  that  responded  to  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  genre  painter.  He  looked  toward 
the  house  not  to  mark  how  the  silver-gray  hue  of 
its  weathered  logs  was  heightened  by  the  smooth 
effect  of  the  moonbeams.  He  did  not  even  feign 
to  care  that  one  of  the  clay-and-stick  chimneys 
leaning  from  the  wall  was  so  awry  against  the  sky 
as  to  give  a  positive  value  of  individuality  in  com 
posing  ;  what  it  did  in  regard  to  the  proper  emis 
sion  of  smoke  was  of  no  consequence,  since  it  so 
served  the  airy  designs  of  the  possible  painter. 
He  approved  of  the  cant  of  the  roof  no  more  than 


THE  JUGGLER.  223 

if  he  had  been  an  architectural  precisian.  He 
looked  with  all  his  eyes  for  what  he  presently  saw, 
—  a  shadowy  figure  stole  out  and  sat  down  on  the 
step  of  the  passage  and  gazed  disconsolately,  as  he 
fancied,  up  at  the  moon. 

"Euphemia,  come  down  here,"  he  called  in  a 
low  voice. 

She  started,  stared  out  into  the  mingled  shadow 
and  sheen  with  dilated  eyes ;  then,  as  he  advanced 
she  rose  and  went  down  toward  him. 

As  they  stood  there  together,  the  girl  looked  out 
from  the  shadow  of  the  tree  above  them  at  the 
blended  dew  and  glimmer,  and  he  looked  imperi 
ously  down  at  her. 

"  See  here,  Phemie,  why  is  that  man  coming  to 
see  you  to-morrow?  " 

"I  dunno,"  she  responded  vaguely. 

"Ah,  but  you  guess;"  he  caught  both  her 
hands.  "Tell  me  why  you  think  he  is  coming." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  which  had  a  con 
straining  quality  for  her.  "He  be  kemin'  ter  see 
me  —  'bout  —  'bout  Owen  Haines  —  him  —  him 
ez  prayed  fur  the  power  —  I  reckon.  They  be 
mighty  close  friends." 

He  gave  a  short  laugh  of  ridicule. 

She  could  not  join  in  his  mirth.  Only  so  short 
a  time  ago  its  cause  had  been  the  tragedy  of  the 
world  to  her.  She  could  hardly  bring  herself  to 
admit  even  to  herself  that  now,  scarcely  three 
weeks  later,  she  cared  as  little  for  it  as  if  it  had 
never  been.  But  her  world  had  changed.  How 


224  THE  JUGGLER. 

it  had  developed!  There  were  new  countries; 
strange  peoples  had  been. discovered;  a  marvelous 
scope  of  emotion  had  been  evolved.  Romance  had 
unfolded  its  wondrous  page.  She  had  seen  Poetry 
trim  its  pinions  and  wing  its  flight.  She  had  lived 
a  new  life ;  she  was  a  changeling.  Where  was  her 
old  self?  Her  fancied  love  for  the  young  reli 
gionist,  her  wounded  pride  for  his  sake,  her  scorch 
ing,  fiery  compassion  for  her  own  —  all  had  fled. 
She  remembered  herself  in  these  emotions  as  if  she 
were  another  being.  She  could  hardly  pity  Owen 
Haines.  If  he  did  not  care  for  the  fleer  of  ridi 
cule,  why  should  she?  For  since  —  she  had  livnl 
an  enchanted  life. 

"What  will  he  want  of  you?  "  demanded  Royce 
gravely. 

She  faltered.  She  feared  Tynes  and  his  powers 
of  argument.  She  dreaded,  not  being  convinced, 
but  the  rigors  of  the  contest.  And  if  Owen  Haines 
should,  as  a  sacrifice  to  love,  agree  to  relinquish 
his  "praying  fur  the  power,"  she  dreaded  the 
renewal  of  their  old  status  of  "keepin'  comp'ny." 

"He  will  want  me  ter  take  Owen  Haines  back." 

"But  you  wouldn't,  Phemie,  you  wouldn't?" 
urged  Royce  breathlessly." 

"He  mought  gin  up  prayin'  fur  the  power.  I 
turned  him  off  fur  that,"  she  hesitated. 

Royce's  scheme  was  complete.  All  the  Cove 
and  the  mountain  regarded  him  as  a  dangler  after 
Euphemia  Sims.  He  could  feign  a  hopeless  jeal 
ousy.  He  could  hold  aloof  for  a  time,  and  the 


THE  JUGGLER,  225 

old  status  would  doubtless  readjust  itself  with  the 
ease  and  security  imparted  by  habit.  He  had 
gone  as  far  as  he  had  ever  planned.  Now  he 
could  leave  the  rest  to  chance. 

But  if  the  life  here  had  afforded  so  arid  a  pro 
spect  heretofore,  how  could  he  contemplate  it  with 
out  Euphemia  ?  His  very  speech  no  other  creature 
could  understand.  He  felt  that  he  would  be  as 
isolated  as  if  he  were  on  a  desert  island,  and  he 
had  a  fiery  impatience  of  time,  —  the  years  that 
were  coming  seemed  such  long  years.  He  had 
never  been  more  m  earnest  in  his  life,  as  he  looked 
down  into  her  beautiful  illumined  face. 

"But  you  will  not,  Euphemia,"  he  said,  slip 
ping  his  arm  around  her  waist.  "You  don't  love 
him." 

Beyond  a  start,  half  surprise  and  half  coyness, 
she  had  not  moved. 

"Tell  me  —  you  care  nothing  for  him?  " 

"Not  now,"  she  faltered.  And  she  felt  anew 
a  pang  for  her  lack  of  constancy. 

He  revolted  at  the  partial  admission  with  all  a 
lover's  insistence  on  preeminence.  "Never  — 
never!  You  could  n't  care  for  such  a  fool.  And 
he  doesn't  love  you,  or  he  would  have  given  up 
that  folly  at  once  —  or  anything  you  wished." 

Even  now  he  hesitated.  The  breeze  swayed  the 
branches  above  them,  and  all  the  draping  pendent 
wild  grapevines  that  clung  about  the  tree  were 
suddenly  astir.  The  circle  of  dark  shadow  in 
which  they  stood  was  inlaid  with  silver  glintings 


226  THE  JUGGLER. 

as  the  moonlight  struck  through  the  foliage;  the 
soft  radiance  fell  full  in  her  eyes. 

"/  would  give  up  all  the  world  for  you,"  he 
cried  impulsively,  "because  I  love  you!" 

She  drew  back  a  trifle,  and  looked  over  her 
shoulder  into  the  glittering  idealization  of  the 
familiar  scenes  of  her  life  in  the  glamours  of  the 
moonlight  and  of  love.  She  heard  the  low  dryadic 
song  of  the  leaves;  she  heard  the  beating  of  her 
own  heart. 

"Tell  me  that  you  love  me,  Euphemia,"  lu- 
pleaded.  "Tell  me  that." 

Amidst  all  the  joy  in  her  face  there  was  a  flash 
of  triumph.  She  was  withdrawing  her  hands  from 
his,  and  the  realization  how  like  she  was  to  women 
of  a  higher  sphere,  despite  her  limitations,  came 
to  him  with  a  certain  surprise.  No  sooner  did 
she  feel  her  power  than  she  had  the  will  to  wield 
it.  The  humble  little  rustic  was  expressed  only  in 
her  outer  guise.  No  finished  coquette  could  have 
given  him  a  more  bewildering  broadside  of  l>eau- 
tiful  eyes  as  she  said,  joyously  laughing,  "What 
makes  you  ask  such  impossible  questions?" 

The  phrase  was  borrowed  of  him,  in  his  frequent 
despair  of  elucidating  the  whole  scheme  of  civili/;»- 
tion  to  her  ignorance,  in  their  readings.  He  could 
not  laugh  when  it  was  so  dexterously  turned  on 
himself.  "Tell  me,"  he  persisted  earnestly,  "tell 
me,  Phemie  —  or  I  '11  —  I  '11 "  —  the  assertion  had 
little  humility,  but  he  divined  its  effectiveness  — 
"I  '11  go  away,  and  never  come  back  again." 


THE  JUGGLER.  227 

She  was  still  laughing,  but  he  marked  that  she 
no  longer  drew  back.  "Do  you  have  to  be  told 
everything  f "  she  quoted  anew  from  his  remon 
strances  because  of  her  catechistic  insistence. 
"Can't  you  see  through  anything  without  having 
it  point-blank?  "  with  his  own  impatient  intonation. 

He  allowed  himself  to  be  decoyed  into  a  hasty 
smile.  "And  you  '11  send  that  fellow  to  the  right 
about  to-morrow?"  he  urged  gravely. 

"Oh,  I  '11  be  glad  enough  ter  git  rid  of  him! " 
she  cried,  in  the  extremity  of  her  relief. 

He  realized  with  a  momentary  qualm  that  the 
new  situation  must  be  avowed  openly  to  justify 
the  position  which  Euphemia  would  sustain  in 
case  Owen  Haines  should  offer  to  relinquish,  as  a 
sacrifice  to  love,  the  pernicious  practice  of  "pray- 
in'  fur  the  power  "  in  public.  He  recognized  this 
step  as  a  certain  riveting  of  his  chains ;  yet  had  he 
not  been  eager  but  a  moment  ago  to  assume  them  ? 
And  even  now,  as  he  looked  down  into  her  face, 
radiant  with  that  joyous  sense  of  supremacy  in  his 
heart,  and  seeming  to  him  the  most  beautiful  he 
had  ever  seen,  the  most  tender,  as  it  responsively 
looked  up  to  his,  he  wondered  that  his  untoward 
fate  had  so  relented  as  to  bestow  upon  him,  in  his 
forlorn  exile,  this  creature,  so  delicately  endowed, 
so  choicely  gifted,  that  even  his  alien  estimate  of 
values  wrought  no  discord  in  the  simple  happiness 
that  had  come  to  him. 

And  it  was  he  who  revealed  to  Jane  Ann  Sims 
the  altered  state  of  things  when  the  two  went  pre- 


228  THE  JUGGLER. 

sently  back  to  the  little  cabin  on  the  slope.  There 
she  sat  in  bulky  oblivion  of  the  things  of  this 
world,  and  especially  the  dish-pan.  Her  specta 
cles  were  awry  on  her  nodding  head.  The  dish- 
towel  was  limp  in  her  nerveless  hand.  The  tallow 
dip  was  guttering  in  the  centre  of  the  table,  and 
about  it  the  moths  circled  in  fond  delusions,  re 
gardless  of  the  winged  cinders  that  lay,  now  still, 
and  now  with  a  quiver  of  departing  life,  on  the 
cloth.  She  made  a  spasmodic  offer  to  resign  the 
dish-towel  to  Euphemia,  waving  it  mechanically 
at  her  with  a  fat,  dimpled  hand  and  a  gesture  of 
renunciation;  but  the  girl,  all  unallured,  passed 
without  a  word  into  the  shed-room  beyond,  ami 
the  juggler  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table  with  one  ell>ow  on  it  as  he  looked  steadily 
across  at  Mrs.  Sims's  face,  which  was  all  lined 
with  the  creases  of  fat  that  were  usually  dimples. 
She  had  roused  into  that  half -dazed  condition  char 
acteristic  of  the  sudden  and  unwelcome  termination 
of  the  sleep  of  fatigue,  and  the  tallow  dip  swayed 
reduplicated  before  her  eyes  like  a  chandelier. 
Mentally  she  seemed  no  clearer  of  perception. 
Royce  had  realized  her  maternal  fondness  for  him. 
ungratefully  requited,  and  he  could  not  altogether 
reconcile  this  with  the  agitated  and  alarmed  mien 
with  which  she  received  his  disclosure. 

"Marry  Phemie!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  sort  of 
drowsy  affright,  as  if  her  mental  capacities  had  not 
yet  laid  hold  on  something  that  had  roused  her 
more  alert  apprehensions. 


THE   JUGGLER.  229 

He  was  irritated  for  a  moment.  He  knew  in 
his  secret  soul  that  he  forswore  much,  overlooked 
much,  bestowed  much,  in  this  mad  resolution,  and 
this  knowledge,  quiescent  under  the  immediate 
influence  of  the  girl's  beauty  and  charm  and  his 
loneliness,  became  tunmltuously  a'ssertive  in  the 
society  of  Mrs.  Sims. 

"Why  not?  I  love  her,  and  I  want  to  marry 
her.  Is  there  anything  so  astonishing  in  that?" 

" Laws-a-massy,  no,  honey!"  Mrs.  Sims  sput 
tered,  her  eyelids  faltering  before  the  myriad- 
flamed  tallow  dip.  She  apprehended  his  rising 
wrath,  and,  somnambulistically  waving  her  hand, 
seemed  to  seek  to  appease  it.  "  Mighty  nigh  every 
young  fool  ez  ever  seen  her  sets  up  the  same 
chune.  'T  ain't  astonishin'  —  but  —  honey  "  — • 
she  looked  at  him  with  sleepy  admonition,  still 
waving  her  hand — "don't  talk  'bout  sech  so 
brazen  an'  loud."  Then  sinking  her  voice  to  a 
husky  whisper  that  could  have  been  heard  in  South 
America,  "Shet  that  thar  door  ahint  ye.  Tubal 
Cain  be  asleep  in  thar."  Her  gesture,  indicating 
the  door,  was  accompanied  by  a  premonitory  jerk 
of  her  body  which  usually  preceded  rising. 

"Don't  disturb  yourself,  I  beg,"  said  Royce, 
still  nettled. 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  catching  the 
door  by  the  latch  brought  it  to  with  a  brisk  bang. 
Mrs.  Sims  pursed  up  her  mouth  with  a  warning 
hiss 'imposing  silence  to  preserve  the  gentle  slum 
bers  of  old  Tubal  Cain,  and  neither  noticed  that 


230  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  latch  had  failed  to  catch,  and  that  the  door, 
although  apparently  closed,  stood  slightly  ajar. 

"  Pheinie  says  —  at  least  she  gives  me  to  under 
stand  that  my  affection  is  returned,"  Royce  went 
on,  in  better  humor. 

"I  hope  she  ain't  tellin'  no  lies  'bout'n  it  this 
time,  ennyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Sims  waggishly;  and 
it  seemed  to  Royce  that  he  was  capable  of  singular 
temerity  when  he  had  risked  the  perils  of  seriously 
falling  in  love  by  simulating  the  tender  passion  in 
any  instance  in  which  Mrs.  Sims  was  to  be  con 
sidered,  however  remotely.  To  be  good-natured 
in  ridicule  by  no  means  implies  good  nature  in 
being  ridiculed. 

"You  have  a  right  to  say  anything  you  like,  I 
suppose,  about  your  own  daughter,"  he  rejoined 
angrily.  "She  doesn't  look  like  a  liar.  For  my 
part,  I  believe  her." 

"  Shucks !  Shucks ! "  Mrs.  Sims  shook  a  mildly 
admonitory  head  at  him.  "I  'm  jes'  funnin'.  An' 
yit  I  kin  'member  tellin'  Tubal  Cain  things  corn- 
sider'ble  short  o'  the  truth  whenst  I  war  a  young 
gal  like  Euphemy,  an'  he  war  a-sparkin*  round." 

The  young  man  looked  uneasily  out  of  the  win 
dow.  Could  time  really  work  such  metamorphoses 
as  these?  Had  she  ever  been  young  and  lissome 
and  soft-eyed  and  fair,  and  was  Euphemia  to  grow 
old  thus? 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  the  broken  snatch  of 
Love's  young  dream  that  there  against  the  dark 
ness  he  suddenly  saw  the  bending  boughs  of  an 


THE   JUGGLER.  231 

elder  bush  all  whitely  abloom,  and  among  them, 
the  fairest  blossom  of  all,  Euphemia's  face,  half 
touched  with  the  moonlight,  yet  distinct  in  the 
radiance  that  came  from  the  candle  within,  smiling 
upon  him  as  she  played  the  eavesdropper,  her  dim 
pled  elbows  on  the  window-sill  and  her  fair  hair 
blown  back  in  the  wind. 

"Nothing  was  said  about  it  till  this  evening," 
he  went  on,  his  satisfaction  restored  in  an  instant, 
"and  I  thought  it  was  only  the  fair  thing  to  let 
you  and  Mr.  Sims  know;  you  have  both  been  so 
kind  since  I  have  been  here." 

Mrs.  Sims's  preliminary  apprehension,  which 
she  seemed  to  have  forgotten,  was  once  more 
aghast  upon  her  face.  She  raised  a  warning  fore 
finger,  and  she  spoke  in  her  husky  penetrating 
whisper:  "Don't  you-uns  say  nare  word  ter  Tubal 
Cain  Sims.  Leave  him  ter  me.  I  '11  settle  him." 

"Why  not?  "  asked  the  young  man,  alert  to  any 
menace,  however  remote. 

Mrs.  Sims  knitted  her  brows  in  embarrassment. 
"Waal,"  she  said,  composing  herself  to  divulge 
the  truth  so  far  as  she  knew  it,  since  no  polite 
subterfuge  was  handy,  "he  air  cantankerous,  an' 
quar'lsome,  an'  hard-headed,  an'  powerful  per 
verse.  An'  he  'pears  ter  be  sot  agin  ye,  kase,  I 
reckon,  I  like  ye,  —  me  an'  Phemie,  though  Phe- 
mie  never  tuk  no  notice  o'  ye  in  this  worl'  till 
'bout  three  weeks  ago  whenst  ye  ondertook  ter  set 
up  ter  her  so  constant.  Ye  hev  witched  that  gal; 
ye  jes'  made  her  fall  in  love  with  ye,  whether  or  no." 


232  THE  JUGGLER. 

The  juggler  laughed  at  this,  casting  a  bright 
glance  at  the  dusky  aperture  of  the  window  where 
the  white  blossoms  all  stirred  by  the  wind  seemed 
to  be  leaning  on  the  sill  and  eavesdropping  too. 
They  might  not  have  all  been  so  happily  at  ease 
had  they  known  that,  close  by  the  door,  still 
slightly  ajar,  and  awakened  by  the  bang  which  the 
juggler  had  dealt  it,  lay  old  Tubal  Cain  Sims, 
grimly  listening  to  this  conversation. 

"I  can't  agree  to  that,"  said  Royce,  after  a 
moment's  reflection.  He  was  certainly  nothing 
of  a  prig,  but  he  had  his  own  views  of  honor,  and 
they  controlled  him.  "This  is  Mr.  Sims's  house; 
and  I  was  received  into  it  first  as  a  guest,  and  it 
is  as  a  privilege  that  I  have  been  allowed  to  re 
main.  I  can't  make  love  to  any  man's  daughter, 
under  these  circumstances,  on  the  sly." 

"But  s'pose  he  won't  agree  —  an'  the  critter  is 
ez  contrary  ez  —  ez  "  Comparisons  failed  Mrs. 
Sims,  and  she  could  only  shake  her  head  warn- 
ingly. 

"Oh  well,  everything  having  been  aboveboard, 
I  'd  take  the  girl  and  elope ! "  cried  the  juggler, 
his  eyes  alight  at  the  mere  prospective  fanning  of 
the  breeze  of  adventure.  "Being  an  educated 
man,  Mrs.  Sims,  I  could  make  a  living  for  myself 
and  my  wife  in  a  dozen  different  ways,  in  any  of 
these  little  towns  about  here.  Why  —  what "  — 

Mrs.  Sims,  bulkily  rising,  had  almost  overturned 
the  table  and  the  crockery  upon  him.  Her  fat 
face  was  pallid  and  flabby,  and  it  shook  as  she 


THE  JUGGLER.  233 

gazed,  speechless  and  wild-eyed,  at  him.  Her 
puffy  hand  besought  him  in  mute  entreaty  before 
she  could  find  words  to  blurt  out,  "Good  Gawd 
A'mighty,  John  Leonard,  don't  lay  yer  tongue 
ter  sech  ez  that!  Don't  s'picion  the  word  ez  ye  'd 
steal  my  darter  away  from  me.  It  would  kill  me 
—  an'  I  hev  stood  yer  frien'  from  the  fust,  even 
whenst  they  all  made  out  ez  ye  war  in  league  with 
Satan  an'  gin  over  ter  witchments.  It  would  kill 
me,  bodaciously!  Don't  ye  steal  my  one  leetle 
lamb  —  thar 's  plenty  o'  gals  in  the  worl',  ready 
an'  willin'  —  steal  them  —  steal  them!  I  want 
my  darter  ter  live  hyar  with  me,  married  an'  sin 
gle, —  ter  live  hyar  with  me.  We  ain't  got  but 
the  one  lone,  lorn  leetle  chile.  Don't  —  don't"  — 
The  tears  stood  in  all  her  dimples  and  she  was 
speechless. 

"Well,  upon  my  word!"  exclaimed  Royce  in 
dignantly,  but  pausing,  with  that  care  which  he 
bestowed  upon  all  manner  of  possessions  represent 
ing  property,  however  meagre,  to  right  the  table 
and  restore  the  imperiled  crockery.  "What  sort 
of  a  frenzy  is  this,  Mrs.  Sims?  Am  I  going  to 
run  away  with  your  daughter?  Have  I  shown 
any  symptoms  of  decamping?  Strikes  me  I  have 
come  to  stay.  I  make  a  point  of  telling  you  — 
because  I  know  that  I  am  not  here  under  your  roof 
for  any  small  profit  to  you,  but  as  a  matter  of 
kindness  and  courtesy  —  of  telling  you  all  about  it 
within  the  hour  that  I  know  it  myself,  and  this  is 
my  reward ! " 


234  THE   JUGGLER. 

Poor  Mrs.  Sims,  having  sunk  back  in  her  chair, 
and  the  young  man  still  remaining  standing,  could 
only  look  up  at  him  with  piteous  contrition  and 
anxious  appeal. 

"I  hope  Mr.  Sims  won't  give  me  any  reason  to 
contemplate  elopement.  Wasn't  he  willing  for 
his  daughter  to  marry  Owen  Haines,  they  having 
been  '  keepin'  comp'ny,'  as  I  understand?" 

She  silently  nodded. 

"My  Lord!  what  have  I  come  to!"  Royce 
cried,  lifting  his  hands,  then  letting  them  fall  to 
his  sides,  as  if  calling  on  heaven  and  earth  to  wit 
ness  the  absurdity  of  the  situation.  "  1  think  I 
might  be  considered  at  least  as  desirable  a  parti 
as  that  pious  monkey  praying  for  the  power !  "  He 
gave  that  short  laugh  of  his  which  so  expressed 
ridicule,  turned,  secured  the  end  of  tallow  candle 
placed  for  him  on  the  shelf,  and,  lighting  it,  as 
cended  the  rickety  stairs  to  the  roof -room. 

The  suggestion  of  an  elopement  was  not  alto 
gether  unacceptable  to  him.  If  there  should  be 
any  objection  urged  against  him,  —  and  he  could 
hardly  restrain  his  mirth  at  the  idea,  —  an  elope 
ment  into  some  other  retired  cove  in  these  regions 
of  nowhere  would  result  not  infelicitously,  afford 
ing  still  further  disguise  and  an  adequate  reason 
for  both  him  and  his  wife  to  be  strangers  in  a 
strange  land.  "A  runaway  match  would  account 
for  everything:  so  bring  on  your  veto  and  wel 
come  !  "  he  said  to  himself. 

Next  morning,  however,  he  found  his  disclosure 


THE  JUGGLER.  235 

to  Tubal  Cain  Sims  postponed.  His  host  had  left 
the  house  before  dawn,  and  although  he  did  not 
return  for  any  of  the  three  meals  Mrs.  Sims  felt 
no  uneasiness,  it  being  a  practice  of  Tubal  Cain 
Sims's,  in  order  to  assert  his  independence  of  pet 
ticoat  government,  to  deal  much  in  small  mysteries 
about  his  affairs.  All  day  —  her  equanimity  re 
stored  by  the  half -jocular,  half -affectionate  raillery 
of  Royce,  who  had  roused  himself  to  the  realiza 
tion  that  it  was  well  to  continue  friends  with  her 
—  she  canvassed  her  husband's  errand,  and  guessed 
at  the  time  of  his  probable  return,  and  speculated 
upon  his  reasons  for  secrecy.  Night  did  not  bring 
him,  and  Royce,  who  had  been  now  laughing  at 
Mrs.  Sims's  various  theories,  and  now  wearying 
of  their  futile  inconsistencies,  began  to  share  her 
curiosity. 

It  was  the  merest  curiosity.  He  did  not  dream 
that  he  wa*s  the  chief  factor  in  his  host's  schemes 
and  absence. 


IX. 

TUBAL  CAIN  SIMS  still  continued  to  harbor  the 
theory  that  the  juggler's  unexplained  ami  lingering 
stay  in  Etowah  Cove  betokened  that  he  sought 
immunity  here  from  the  consequences  of  crime, 
and  that  he  was  a  fugitive  from  justice.  In  no 
other  way  could  he  interpret  those  strange  words, 
"  —  But  the  one  who  lives  —  for  his  life !  —  his 
life !  —  his  life !  "  cried  out  from  troubled  dreams 
in  the  silence  of  the  dark  midnight.  Although 
this  view  had  been  shared  by  the  lime -burners 
when  first  he  had  sought  to  enlist  their  preju 
dice,  for  he  would  fain  rid  his  house  of  this  ill- 
flavored  association,  of  late  their  antagonism  had 
flagged.  Only  Peter  Knowles  seemed  to  abide 
by  their  earlier  impression,  but  Peter  Knowles 
was  now  absorbed  heart  and  soul  in  burning 
lime,  as  the  time  for  its  use  was  drawing  near. 
Sims  began  to  understand  the  luke-warmness  of 
the  others  when  he  noted  the  interest  of  the  young 
man  in  his  beautiful  daughter:  they  deemed  him 
now  merely  a  lover.  This  discovery  had  come  but 
lately  to  Sims,  for  he  was  of  a  slow  and  plodding 
intelligence,  and  hard  upon  it  followed  the  revela 
tions  he  had  overheard  through  the  open  door  the 
previous  evening.  It  was  evidently  an  occasion  for 


THE  JUGGLER.  237 

haste.  While  he  loitered,  this  stranger,  encour 
aged  by  the  vicarious  coquetry  of  Jane  Ann  Sims, 
might  marry  Euphemia;  and  when  the  juggler 
should  be  haled  to  the  bar  of  justice  for  his  crimes, 
the  Cove  would  probably  perceive  in  the  dispensa 
tion  only  a  judgment  upon  her  parents  for  having 
made  an  idol  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood. 

He  realized,  as  many  another  man  has  done, 
that  in  extreme  crises,  involving  risk,  quondam 
friendships  are  but  as  broken  reeds,  and  he  was 
leaning  stoutly  only  upon  his  own  fealty  to  his 
own  best  interests,  as  he  jogged  along  on  his  old 
brown  mare,  with  her  frisky  colt  at  her  heels, 
down  the  red  clay  roads  of  the  cove,  and  through 
rugged  mountain  passes  into  still  other  coves,  on 
his  way  to  Colbury,  the  county  town.  His  heart 
burned  hot  within  him  against  Jane  Ann  Sims 
when  he  recalled  her  advice  to  the  man  to  say 
nothing  to*  him,  the  head  of  the  house  and  the 
father  of  the  girl!  She'd  settle  him!  Would 
she,  indeed?  And  he  relished  with  a  grim  zest, 
as  a  sort  of  reparation,  the  fright  she  had  suffered 
at  the  bare  possibility  of  an  elopement.  Then  this 
recollection,  reacting  on  his  own  heart,  set  it  all 
a-plunging,  as  he  toiled  on  wearily  in  the  hot  sun, 
lest  this  disaster  might  chance  during  his  absence, 
and  he  found  himself  leaning  appealingly,  for 
lornly,  on  the  honor  of  the  very  man  whom  his 
mission  was  to  ruin  if  he  could.  It  was  he  who 
had  refused  to  dispense  with  the  father's  consent 
could  it  be  obtained,  and  the  perfidious  Jane  Ann 


238  THE  JUGGLER. 

Sims  had  counseled  otherwise;  he  who  had  taken 
note  of  hospitality  and  courtesy,  — much  of  which, 
in  truth,  had  been  mere  seeming.  More  than  once 
it  almost  gave  Sims  pause  to  reflect  to  whom  he 
was  indebted  for  any  show  of  consideration.  He 
had,  however,  but  one  daughter.  This  plea,  he 
felt,  might  serve  to  excuse  unfounded  suspicion, 
and  make  righteous  a  breach  of  hospitality,  and 
even  justify  cruelty.  "One  darter!"  he  often 
said  to  himself  as  he  went  along,  all  unaware  that 
if  he  had  had  six  his  cares,  his  solicitude.  lii> 
paternal  affection,  would  have  been  meted  out  six 
fold,  so  elastic  is  the  heart  to  the  strain  upon  its 
resources. 

For  this  cause,  despite  his  softened  judgment 
toward  the  juggler,  he  did  not  flinch  when  he 
reached  Colbury,  and  made  his  way  across  the 
"Square,"  where  every  eye  seemed  to  his  anxious 
consciousness  fixed  upon  him,  as  if  attributing  to 
him  some  nefarious  designs  on  the  liberty  of  an 
innocent  man.  But  in  reality  the  town  folks  of 
Colbury  were  far  too  sophisticated  in  their  own 
esteem  to  accord  the  slightest  note  to  an  old  codger 
from  the  mountains,  —  a  region  as  remote  to  the 
majority,  save  now  and  then  for  a  glimpse  of  an 
awe-stricken  visitor  from  the  backwoods,  as  the 
mythical  island  of  Atlantis.  For  such  explorations 
into  the  world  at  large  as  the  ambitious  citizens  of 
Colbury  adventured  led  them  not  into  the  scorned 
rural  wilds  comprehensively  known  to  them  as 
"  'way  up  in  the  Cove." 


THE  JUGGLER.  239 

Tubal  Cain  Sims  had  been  here  but  twice  be 
fore:  once  when  there  was  a  political  rally  early 
after  the  war,  and  later  as  a  witness  for  the  de 
fense  in  a  case  of  murder.  The  crowded,  con 
fused,  jostling  political  experience  still  thronged 
unintelligibly  the  retina  of  his  mind's  eye,  but 
order  and  quiet  distinguished  the  glimpse  vouch 
safed  him  of  the  workings  of  justice.  He  had 
evolved  a  great  respect  for  judicial  methods,  and 
he  felt  something  like  a  glow  of  pride  to  see  the 
court-house  still  standing  so  spacious  and  stately, 
as  it  seemed  to  him,  within  its  inclosures,  the  sur 
rounding  grass  green  and  new,  and  the  oak  boughs 
clustering  above  the  columns  of  the  porch.  He 
was  not  aware  how  long  he  stood  and  gazed  at  it, 
his  eyes  alight,  his  cheek  flushed.  If  the  question 
had  been  raised,  he  would  have  known,  of  course, 
that  the  Juggernaut  car  of  justice  had  held  steadily 
on  its  inexorable  way  through  all  the  years  that 
had  since  intervened,  and  that  his  individual  lack 
of  a  use  for  it  had  not  banished  it  from  the  earth ; 
but  Tubal  Cain  was  not  a  man  of  speculation, 
and  it  smote  him  with  a  sort  of  gratified  surprise 
to  see  the  court-house  on  its  stanch  stone  founda 
tions  as  it  was  in  the  days  when  he  and  it  con 
served  so  intimate  a  relation.  There  were  two 
or  three  lawyers  on  the  steps  or  passing  in  at  the 
gate,  but  he  eyed  these  members  of  the  tribe 
askance.  The  value  which  he  placed  on  counsel 
was  such  confidence  as  he  might  repose  in  a  shoot 
ing-iron  with  a  muzzle  at  both  ends,  —  as  liable  to 


240  THE  JUGGLER. 

go  off  in  one  direction  as  in  the  other;  and  thus  it 
was  that,  with  a  hitch  of  the  reins,  he  reminded 
himself  anew  of  his  errand,  and  took  his  way  down 
the  declivity  of  a  straggling  little  street,  where 
presently  the  houses  grew  few  and  small,  dwin 
dling  first  to  shabby  tumble-down  old  cottages, 
then  to  sundry  dilapidated  blacksmith  shops,  be 
yond  which  stretched  a  rocky  untenanted  space,  as 
if  all  habitation  shrunk  from  neighboring  the  little 
jail  which  stood  alone  between  the  outer  confines 
of  the  town  and  the  creek. 

Here  also  he  came  to  a  halt,  looking  at  the  surly 
building  with  recognizing  eyes.  And  to  it  too 
these  years  had  not  been  vacant.  All  the  time 
of  his  absence,  in  the  far-away  liberties  of  the 
mountains,  with  the  unshackled  wind  and  the  free 
clouds  and  the  spontaneous  growths  of  the  earth 
out  of  its  own  untrammeled  impulse,  this  grim 
place  had  been  making  its  record  of  constraints, 
and  captives,  and  limits,  and  locks,  and  longing 
bursting  hearts,  and  baffled  denied  eyes,  and 
yearning  covetings  of  freedom,  the  bitterness  of 
which  perhaps  no  free  creature  can  know.  Surely, 
surely,  these  darkening  elements  of  the  moral 
atmosphere  had  turned  the  bricks  to  their  dingy 
hue.  The  barred  windows  gave  on  vague  black 
interiors.  A  cloud  was  in  the  air  above,  with  now 
and  then  a  mutter  of  thunder,  and  the  sullen  jail 
lay  in  a  shadow,  and  the  water  ran  black  in  the 
green-fringed  creek  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  while 
behind  him  at  its  summit,  where  the  street  inter- 


THE  JUGGLER.  241 

sected  the  open  square,  the  sunlight  fell  in  such 
golden  suffusions  that  a  clay-bank  horse  with  his 
rider  motionless  against  the  blue  sky  beyond  might 
have  seemed  an  equestrian  statue  in  bronze,  com 
memorating  the  valiance  of  some  bold  cavalry 
leader.  Tubal  Cain  wondered  to  see  the  jail  so 
still  and  solitary;  and  where  could  be  the  man 
whom  he  had  pictured  sitting  in  all  the  luxury  of 
possession  on  the  front  doorsteps,  smoking  his 
pipe  ? 

This  man  of  his  imagination  was  the  sheriff  of 
the  county,  who  did  not  avail  himself  of  his  privi 
lege  to  appoint  a  jailer,  but  turned  the  keys  him 
self  and  dwelt  in  his  stronghold.  He  was  of  an 
over-exacting  cast  of  mind.  He  could  never  be 
lieve  a  prisoner  secure  unless  with  his  own  hands 
he  had  drawn  the  bolts.  On  account  of  the  great 
vogue  attained  by  various  crimes  at  this  period, 
and  the  consequent  overcrowding  of  the  prisons 
throughout  the  State,  a  considerable  number  of 
captured  moonshiners  had  been  billeted  on  the 
Kildeer  County  jail  while  awaiting  trial  in  the 
Federal  Court,  and  by  reason  of  this  addition  to 
his  charge  his  vigilance  was  redoubled.  In  all  the 
details  of  his  office  he  carried  the  traits  of  a 
precisian,  and  was  in  some  sort  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  the  more  easy-going  county  officers  with 
whom  his  official  duties  brought  him  into  contact. 
Even  the  judge  in  his  high  estate  on  the  bench 
was  now  and  again  nettled  by  the  difficult  ques 
tions  of  punctilio  with  which  this  servant  of  the 


242  THE  JUGGLER. 

court  could  contrive  to  invest  some  trifling  matter, 
and  was  known  to  incline  favorably  to  the  salutary 
theory  of  rotation  in  office, — barring,  of  com— . 
the  judicial  office.  But  the  sheriff  had  three  minie 
balls  in  him  which  he  had  collected  on  various 
battlefields  in  the  South;  and  although  he  had 
fought  on  a  side  not  altogether  popular  in  this 
region,  they  counted  for  him  at  the  polls  in  succes 
sive  elections,  without  the  formalities  of  statutory 
qualifications  and  with  a  wondrous  power  of  mlu- 
plication  in  the  number  of  resulting  votes.  He 
was  reputed  of  an  extraordinary  valor  on  those 
hard-contested  fields  where  he  had  found  his  bul 
lets,  but  there  were  advanced  occasionally  caviling 
criticisms  of  his  record  on  the  score  that,  being 
incapable  of  originating  a  course  of  action,  it 
never  occurred  to  him  to  run  away  when  his  com 
mand  was  ordered  to  advance,  and  that  his  bravery 
was  simply  the  fixed  stolidity  of  adhering  to  an 
other  man's  idea  in  default  of  any  ideas  of  ln> 
own.  In  proof  of  this  it  was  cited  that  when 
he  was  among  a  guard  detailed  to  hold  a  gin- 
house  full  of  cotton,  and  the  enemy  surprised  the 
sentinel  and  captured  the  building,  he  alone  stood 
like  a  stock  with  his  rifle  still  at  a  serene  "  shoul 
der-arms,"  where  it  was  ordered  to  be,  while  his 
comrades  undertook  a  deploying  evolution  of  their 
own  invention  at  a  mad  double-quick,  without  a 
word  of  command,  showing  the  cleanest  of  nimble 
heels  across  the  country.  Hut  lit-  \\;i>  i-stremed  by 
these  depreciators  a  lucky  fool,  for  since  the  war, 


THE  JUGGLER.  243 

having  an  affinity  for  the  office  of  sheriff,  he  had 
more  than  once  been  obliged  to  decline  to  make 
the  race,  and  lie  off  a  term  or  two,  because  of  the 
law  which  will  not  permit  the  office  to  be  held  by 
the  same  person  eight  years  without  an  interval. 
His  fad  for  being  in  the  direct  line  of  the  enemy's 
fire  had  not  resulted  more  disastrously  than  to 
give  him  some  painful  hospital  experience;  the 
balls  had  come  to  stay,  and  apparently  the  hard 
metal  of  his  constitution  served  to  assimilate  them 
easily  enough,  for  he  was  hale  and  hearty,  and 
bade  fair  to  live  to  a  green  old  age,  and  they  never 
made  themselves  heard  of  save  at  election  times, 
when  in  effect  they  stuffed  the  ballot-box. 

Having  voted  for  him  so  often,  and  with  that 
immense  estimate  of  the  value  of  a  single  ballot 
common  to  the  backwoodsman  little  conversant 
with  the  power  of  numbers,  Tubal  Cain  Sims  felt 
a  possessory  claim  on  the  sheriff  as  having  made 
him  such.  He  stood  in  dismay  and  doubt  for  a 
moment,  gazing  at  the  stout  closed  door  that 
opened,  when  it  opened  at  all,  directly  on  the  de 
scending  flight  of  steps,  without  any  ceremonial 
porch  or  other  introduction  to  entrance;  then, 
after  the  manner  of  Etowah  Cove,  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  in  a  stentorian  halloo  and  hailed  the  grim 
and  silent  house. 

The  sound  seemed  a  spell  to  waken  it  into  life. 
The  echo  of  his  shouts  came  back  from  the  brick 
walls  so  promptly  as  to  simulate  two  imperative 
voices  rather  than  acoustic  mimicry.  Sudden  pale 


244  THE  JUGGLER. 

faces  showed  at  the  bars,  wearing  the  inquiring 
startled  mien  of  alarm  and  surprise.  Tlu-  ratih- 
of  a  chain  heralded  the  approach  of  a  great  guard - 
dog  dragging  a  block  from  around  the  corner. 
With  his  big  bull-like  head  lowered  and  his  fangs 
showing  between  his  elastic  lips,  he  stood  fiercely 
surveying  the  stranger  for  a  short  time ;  then  — 
and  Tubal  Cain  Sims  could  have  more  readily  for 
given  a  frantic  assault,  for  he  had  his  pistol  in  his 
hand  —  the  sagacious  brute  sat  down  abruptly,  and 
continued  to  contemplate  the  visitor,  but  with  a 
certain  air  of  non-committal  curiosity,  evidently 
realizing  that  his  vocation  was  not  to  deter  people 
from  getting  into  jail,  but  to  prevent  them  from 
getting  out.  The  pallid  faces  at  the  windows  were 
laughing,  despite  the  bars;  and  although  nettled 
by  the  ridicule  they  expressed,  Tubal  Sims  made 
bold  to  lift  up  his  voice  again:  "Hello,  Enott! 
Enott  Blake!  Lemme  in!  Lemme  in,  I  say! 
Hello,  Enott!" 

The  faces  of  the  spectators  were  distended  anew. 
At  those  windows  where  there  was  more  than  one, 
they  were  turned  toward  each  other  for  the  luxury 
of  an  exchange  of  winks  and  leers.  When  a  face 
was  alone  it  grinned  jocular  satisfaction  to  it 
self,  and  one  man,  with  a  large  ml  and  facetious 
countenance,  now  and  again  showed  a  lifted  hand 
smiting  an  unseen  leg,  in  the  extremity  of  solitary 
joy.  The  dog,  with  his  big  head  still  lowered  and 
his  drooping  lips  a-quiver,  gave  a  surly  growl  of 
displeasure,  when  the  colt,  having  somewhat  recov- 


THE  JUGGLER.  245 

ered  from  the  fatigues  of  its  long  journey,  began 
to  frisk  nimbly,  and  to  curvet  and  caracole;  the 
mare  turned  her  head  anxiously  about  as  she 
watched  these  gyrations.  Tubal  Cain  glared  at 
the  men  at  the  windows.  They  had  little  to  laugh 
at,  doubtless,  but  why  should  they  so  gratuitously 
laugh  at  him?  A  tide  of  abashed  mortification 
carried  the  blood  to  his  head.  His  stanch  self- 
respect  had  heretofore  precluded  the  suspicion  that 
he  was  ever  the  object  of  ridicule,  and  now  his 
pride  revolted  at  his  plight;  but  since  he  could 
not  get  at  his  mockers  and  inflict  condign  punish 
ment,  naught  remained  but  to  manfully  persist  in 
his  course  as  if  they  were  not.  He  dismounted, 
threw  the  reins  over  a  hitching-post,  advanced 
through  the  gate  of  the  narrow  yard,  his  pistol  in 
his  hand  for  fear  of  the  formidable  dog,  and  as 
cended  the  steps  with  a  resolute  tread.  He  dealt 
a  resounding  double-knock  with  the  butt  end  of 
his  shooting-iron,  crying  as  he  did  so  upon  Enott 
Blake  as  a  "dad -burned  buzzard"  to  unlock  the 
door  or  he  would  break  it  down.  Suddenly  it 
opened,  and  by  the  force  of  his  expectant  blow  he 
fell  forward  into  the  hall;  then  it  closed  behind 
him  with  a  bang  that  shook  the  house. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  exclaimed  an  irate 
voice.  "  Jeemes,  take  his  weepon." 

And  albeit  Tubal  Sims  stoutly  held  on  to  it,  a 
scientific  crack  on  the  knuckles  administered  by 
a  dapper  light-haired  young  man  caused  the  stiff 
old  fingers  to  relax  and  yield  the  pistol  to  the  cus 
tody  of  the  law. 


246  /'///:  . 

Tubal  Sims  confronted  a  tall,  spare,  vigorous 
man  about  fifty -five  years  of  age,  with  iron-gray 
hair  worn  with  a  certain  straight  lank  effect  and 
parted  far  on  the  side,  a  florid  complexion,  and  a 
bright  yellowish-gray  eye  which  delivered  the  kind 
of  glance  popularly  held  to  resemble  an  eagle's. 
His  look  was  very  intent  as  he  gazed  in  the  twilight 
of  the  grimy  hall  at  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  who  began 
to  feel  a  quiver  at  the  lack  of  recognition  it  ex 
pressed.  To  be  sure,  Tubal  Sims  knew  that  he 
had  no  acquaintance  with  the  man,  but  somehow 
he  had  not  counted  on  this  total  unresponsiveneas 
to  his  claim  upon  the  officer. 

"I  hev  voted  fur  you-uns  fur  sher'ff  nine  time 
out'n  ten,"  he  said,  with  the  rancor  of  reproach 
for  benefits  conferred  unworthily. 

He  stood  with  a  very  large  majority  of  the  en 
lightened  citizens  of  the  county.  Enott  Blake 
had  been  but  recently  reflected,  but  if  his  canvass 
were  to  be  made  anew  it  is  barely  possible  that  he 
would  have  fancied  he  might  have  weathered  it 
without  the  support  of  this  ancient  adherent.  His 
ofiice  was  of  the  sort  which  is  not  compatible  with 
any  show  of  personal  favor,  and  he  resented  the 
reminder  of  political  services  as  an  imputation. 

"Well,  ye  have  got  a  sheriff  that  knows  what 
attempted  house-breaking  is,"  he  said  severely. 
"And  unless  ye  can  show  a  good  reason  for  try  in' 
to  break  into  that  door,  ye  '11  find  ye  have  got  a 
sheriff  that  will  take  a  power  o'  pains  ye  don't 
break  out  again  soon." 


THE  JUGGLER.  247 

Tubal  Cain's  face,  all  wind-blown  and  red  with 
the  sun,  and  rugged  with  hard  grooved  wrinkles, 
and  nervous  with  the  untoward  complications  of 
achieving  an  audience  with  the  man  he  had  ridden 
so  far  to  see,  was  shattered  from  the  congruity  of 
his  gravity  into  a  sort  of  fragmentary  laughter  out 
of  keeping  with  the  light  of  anxiety  in  his  eyes. 

"Did  ye  ever  hear  of  a  man  tryin'  ter  break 
inter  a  jail?"  he  demanded. 

"I  caught  you  doin'  it  to  the  best  of  your  abil 
ity,"  returned  the  literal-minded  sheriff. 

Tubal  Cain  would  have  felt  as  if  he  were  dream 
ing  had  it  not  been  for  sundry  recollections  of 
stories  of  the  matter-of-fact  tendencies  of  the  offi 
cer  which  were  far  from  reassuring.  He  felt  that 
he  could  hardly  have  faced  the  situation  had  not 
the  dapper  round-visaged  young  deputy,  whose 
blond  hair  curled  like  a  baby's  in  tendrils  on  his 
red,  freckled  forehead,  glanced  up  at  him  with  a 
jocose  wink  as  he  proceeded  to  draw  the  cartridges 
from  the  mountaineer's  shooting-iron;  the  triumph 
of  capture  was  still  in  his  eye,  while  he  lounged 
carelessly  over  the  banisters  of  the  staircase  to  evade 
the  responsibility  and  labor  of  standing  upright. 

"Own  up,  daddy,"  he  cavalierly  admonished 
the  elder.  "Tell  what  you  were  aimin'  to  do. 
To  rescue  prisoners"  —  his  superior  snorted  at  the 
very  word —  "or  rob  us  of  our  vally'bles?  "  The 
sheriff  turned  upon  the  deputy  with  a  stare  of  in 
quiry  as  if  wondering  what  these  might  be ;  then, 
vaguely  apprehending  the  banter,  said  severely :  — 


248  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Cuttm'  jokes  about  your  bizness,  Jeemes,  so 
constant,  makes  me  'feard  it  's  a  leetle  bit  too 
confinin'  for  such  a  gay  bird  as  you.  Kar-kivpin' 
in  a  saloon  would  fit  your  build  better  'n  the  sort 
o'  bar-keepin'  we  do  here,  I  'in  thinkin'." 

Enott  Blake  might  l>e  laughed  at  on  occasion, 
but  he  had  a  trick  of  making  other  men  as  serious 
as  himself  when  he  sought  to  play  upon  their 
foibles.  The  blond  deputy's  countenance  showed 
that  it  had  another  and  deeper  tinge  of  red  in  its 
capacity;  he  came  to  the  perpendicular  siitldi -nl\ 
as,  without  lifting  his  eyes,  he  continued  to  revolve 
the  cylinder  of  the  pistol  and  to  draw  the  car 
tridges  seriatim.  He  was  but  newly  appointed, 
and  zealous  of  the  favor  of  his  superior. 

"I  dunno  how  I  could  bear  up,  though,"  he 
said,  with  apology  in  the  cadence  of  his  voice,  "  if 
I  didn't  crack  a  joke  wunst  in  a  while,  consider 
ing  I  'in  just  broke  into  harness." 

"That's  a  fact,"  admitted  the  martial  elder, 
visibly  and  solemnly  placated.  "Do  you  know 
what  we  were  doin'  while  you  yelled,  an'  capered, 
an'  cut  up  them  monkey-shines  in  front  of  the 
jail?"  he  demanded  sternly,  turning  to  Tubal 
Cain  Sims.  "We  were  cuttin*  a  man  down  that 
tried  to  hang  himself." 

"Suicidin',"  put  in  the  deputy,  as  if  making  a 
nice  distinction  between  this  voluntary  suspension 
and  the  legal  execution. 

"An'  we  were  bringin'  the  man  to  himself 
agin." 


THE  JUGGLER.  249 

"He  's  crazy,  crazy  as  a  loon,"  interpolated  the 
deputy  in  a  mutter,  pulling  the  trigger  and  snap 
ping  the  hammer  of  the  empty  weapon,  and  sight 
ing  it  unpleasantly  down  the  hall,  aiming  alter 
nately  at  the  sheriff  and  at  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  who 
could  scarcely  repress  an  admonition,  but  for  awe's 
sake  desisted. 

"Or  more  likely,  simulatin'  insanity,"  said  the 
sheriff;  "it's  plumb  epidemic  nowadays  'mongst 
the  crim'nals." 

"Well,  he  come  mighty  nigh  lightin'  out  for 
a  country  where  no  vain  pretenses  a^ail,"  remarked 
the  loquacious  deputy,  one  eye  closed,  and  drawing 
a  very  fine  line  from  the  bridge  of  old  Sims's  nose 
with  the  empty  pistol. 

"This  is  a  country  where  they  don't  avail, 
either,"  retorted  the  sheriff,  "not  with  any  reason 
able  jury.  And  twelve  men,  though  liable  to  be 
fools,  ain't  fools  o'  the  same  pattern.  That 's  the 
main  thing:  impanel  a  variety  o'  fools,  an'  the  ver- 
dic'  is  generally  horse  sense.  Now,  sir,"  turning 
on  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  who  could  feel  his  hat  rising 
up  on  his  hair,  "what  do  you  want,  anyhow?" 

"Ter  git  out,  — that 's  all;  ter  git  out  o'  hyar!  " 
exclaimed  Tubal  Sims,  sickened  with  a  ghastly 
horror  of  the  presentment  of  the  scene  they  had 
left,  the  walls  that  harbored  it,  the  roof  that  shel 
tered  it.  Oh  for  the  free  pure  mountain  air,  the 
wild  untrodden  lengths  of  the  mountain  wilderness, 
fresh  with  the  sun  and  the  dew,  and  the  vigor  of 
natural  growths,  and  the  sweet  scent  of  woodland 


250  THE   .irtii,  LKK. 

ways!  As  he  cast  up  his  eyes  to  the  high  window 
above  the  staircase  he  could  have  crie<l  out  aloud 
to  see  the  bars,  and  he  gazed  at  the  door  in  a  de 
speration  that  started  the  drops  on  his  brow  and 
brought  the  blood  to  his  face,  as  if  the  intensity  of 
his  emotion  had  been  some  strong  physical  effort. 

"What  did  you  get  in  here  for,  then?"  de 
manded  the  sheriff.  "Most  folks  have  to  be 
fetched." 

Tubal  Cain  Sims's  heart  failed  him.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  he  had  ever  designed  a  fate  like 
this  for  the  man  who  had  slept  under  his  roof; 
who  had  eaten  his  bread;  who  had  refused  to 
maintain  secrecy  against  him;  who  considered  him 
and  his  claims,  when  his  own,  his  very  own.  ]>:i--.-d 
them  by?  He  could  not  realize  it.  He  refused 
to  credit  his  cherished  scheme ;  he  felt  that  if  once 
away  from  the  paralyzing  sight  of  the  place,  inven 
tion  would  rouse  itself  anew.  Some  other  device 
would  serve  to  rid  the  Cove  of  the  man,  and  to 
frustrate  his  elopement  with  Euphemia.  Tubal 
Sims  was  sure  he  could  compass  a  new  plan  if  once 
more  he  were  free  in  the  clear  and  open  air. 

The  eagle  eye  of  the  sheriff  marked  the  alert 
turning  of  Sims's  head  toward  the  door.  "What 
did  you  come  here  for,  then? "  he  again  demanded. 

With  hot  eyes  glancing  hither  and  thither  like 
a  wild  thing's  in  a  trap,  Tubal  Sims  replied,  with 
the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  "I  wanted  ter  view 
the  man  I  hev  voted  fur  so  often  an'  so  constant." 

Now,  the  sheriff,  like  many  other  great  men  in 


THE  JUGGLER.  251 

their  several  places,  had  his  vanity,  and  it  is  not 
hard  to  convince  one  who  has  been  before  the 
public  eye  that  he  fills  that  orb  to  the  exclusion  of 
any  less  worthy  object.  That  Tubal  Cain  Sims 
should  have  journeyed  fully  thirty-five  miles  from 
the  mountains  to  contemplate  the  resplendent  dig 
nity  of  the  sheriff  in  his  oft-resumed  incumbency 
seemed  possibly  no  disproportionate  tribute  to 
Enott  Blake's  estimate  of  his  own  merits.  But 
this  view,  however  flattering,  was  hardly  compati 
ble  with  the  lordly  manner  in  which  the  old  moun 
taineer  had  beaten  upon  the  door  of  the  jail,  and 
the  imperative  tones  with  which  he  had  summoned 
forth  the  servant  of  the  public  who  owed  his  high 
estate  to  the  suffrages  of  him  aided  by  the  likes 
of  him. 

A  wonderful  change  is  wrought  in  the  moral 
atmosphere  of  a  man  by  the  event  of  an  election. 
The  candidate's  estate  is  vested  by  the  announce 
ment  of  the  result.  He  owns  his  office  for  the 
time,  and  he  breathes  a  free  man.  It  is  interest 
ing  to  see  how  the  muscles  of  his  metaphorical 
knees  straighten  out,  for  the  day  of  genuflection 
is  over.  Independence  is  reasserted  in  his  eye;  he 
bears  himself  as  one  who  conquers  by  the  prowess 
of  his  own  bow  and  spear;  and  men  whom  he 
would  fain  conciliate  last  week  need  to  search  his 
eye  for  an  expression  they  can  recognize.  They 
will  be  treated  no  more  to  that  mollifying  demon 
stration,  the  candidate's  smile. 

The    defeated    aspirant's    once    bland   counte- 


252  THE  JUGGLER. 

nance,  however,  has  assumed  all  the  contours  of  the 
cynic's.  A  bitter  sort  of  nonchalance  with  a 
frequent  forced  laugh  goes  better  combined  with 
peanuts,  if  the  place  is  not  too  high  in  the  official 
scale  and  the  candidate  of  no  great  social  preten 
sions,  since  the  hulls  can  be  cast  off  with  a  flouting 
gesture  which  aids  the  general  implication  that  the 
constituency  may  appropriately  go  hang,  for  all 
he  cares.  He  is  not  hurt,  —  not  he !  He  made 
the  race  to  oblige  his  friends  and  party,  and  be 
now  and  again  throws  out  intimations  of  a  bigger 
piece  of  pie  saving  for  him  as  a  reward  for  filling 
the  breach.  Meantime  peanuts  perforce  suffice. 

Enott  Blake,  through  much  place-holding,  had 
become  imbued  with  the  candidate's  antagonism 
to  that  assumption  of  all  the  power  residing  in  the 
voting  masses  common  to  the  arrogant  but  impo 
tent  unit.  He  was  never  elected  by  any  one  man, 
nor  through  any  definitely  exerted  political  influ 
ence.  He  served  the  people,  and  incidentally  his 
own  interest,  and  mighty  glad  they  ought  to  be  to 
get  him,  and  this  was  what  he  felt  especially  after 
elections.  If  ever  in  the  course  of  a  canvass  he 
had  a  qualm,  —  and  it  is  said  that  the  least  imagi 
native  of  men  are  capable  of  nightmare,  —  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  calling  himself  a  fool  thereafter, 
to  think  less  of  himself  than  people  thought  of 
him,  and  of  counting  endearingly  his  minie  balls. 
He  was  a  rare  instance  of  a  great  personal  popu 
larity,  and  he  had  no  mind  to  abate  his  pretensions 
before  the  preposterous  patronage  of  this  old 


THE  JUGGLER.  253 

mountaineer  who  possibly  had  not  paid  poll-tax 
for  twenty  years.  He  could  no  more  be  said  to 
possess  an  enlightened  curiosity  than  the  hound 
trained  to  trail  game  could  be  accredited  with  an 
inquisitive  interest  in  the  natural  history  of  the 
subject  of  his  quest.  It  was  only  with  a  similar 
rudimentary  instinct  of  the  pursuit  of  prey  that 
he  felt  stirring  an  intention  to  wring  from  the  in 
truder  the  real  reason  for  this  strange  entrance. 

"No,  no,  my  friend,"  he  said,  with  a  kindling 
of  his  keen  eye  which  expressed  a  degree  of  fero 
city,  "you  can't  come  it  that-a-way  on  me.  I'm 
a  mighty  fine  man,  I  know,  but  folks  ain't  got  to 
sech  a  pass  yet  as  to  break  into  jail  for  a  glimpse 
of  me.  You  don't  get  out  of  that  door"  —  he 
nodded  his  head  at  it — "till  you  give  me  a  rea 
sonable  reason  for  your  extraordinary  conduc'." 

Tubal  Cain  Sims  was  silent.  His  hard  old  lips 
suddenly  shut  fast.  His  eyes  gleamed  with  a 
dogged  light.  He  would  not  speak  had  he  no  will 
to  speak,  and  the  officer  should  see  which  could 
hold  out  the  longest  at  this  game.  He  remem 
bered  how  often  he  had  hearkened  to  the  com 
plaints  of  the  preternatural  quality  of  his  obstinacy 
with  which  Jane  Ann  Sims  had  beguiled  the  con 
jugal  way  since,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  they 
had  left  the  doorstep  of  Parson  Greenought's 
house  man  and  wife.  Surely,  if  it  had  time  and 
again  vanquished  Jane  Ann  Sims,  how  could  the 
sheriff,  a  mere  man,  abide  it?  He  had  not,  how 
ever,  reckoned  on  certain  means  of  compulsion 


254  THE  JUGGLER. 

which  were  not  within  the  power  of  the  doughty 
contestant  for  domestic  supremacy. 

There  was  no  visible  communication  between 
the  older  officer  and  the  deputy  when  the  young 
man  said  appealingly,  "Ye  won't  need  handcuffs, 
Mr.  Blake?  Leastwise  not  till  after  we  come 
from  the  jestice's?" 

"Handcuffs!"  screeched  Tubal  Sims,  as  vio 
lently  cast  out  from  the  stronghold  of  his  obstinate 
silence  as  if  he  had  been  hurtled  thence  by  a  cata 
pult.  "Ye  hev  got  no  right  to  handcuff  me!  I 
kem  hyar  of  my  own  free  will  an'  accord.  I  ain't 
no  prisoner.  Open  that  thar  door,"  he  continued, 
lowering  his  voice  to  a  tone  of  command  and  turn 
ing  majestically  to  the  sheriff.  "Open  that  door, 
or  I  '11  hev  the  law  of  ye." 

"Not  till  I  have  had  the  law  of  you,"  replied 
the  imperturbable  functionary.  "But,  Jeemes," 
—  he  turned  with  a  disaffected  aside  to  his  young 
colleague,  —  "what  d'ye  go  namin'  irons  for? 
'T  ain't  polite  to  talk  'bout  ironin'  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  your  father." 

The  deputy  looked  about  in  vague  despair.  He 
had  but  sought  the  effect  upon  the  imagination  of 
the  mention  of  shackles,  and  indeed  his  words  had 
potently  affected  the  fancy  of  the  only  man  in  the 
room  who  possessed  that  illusive  pictorial  faculty. 
The  stanch  old  mountaineer  was  all  a-tremble. 
What  would  Jane  Ann  Sims  think  of  this?  He 
might  have  known  that  this  journeying  abroad  in 
secret  and  without  her  advice  would  result  <lisa.s- 


THE  JUGGLER.  255 

trously!  What  indeed  would  Jane  Ann  Sims 
think  of  this? 

"Open  that  door!"  he  vociferated.  "Ye  hev 
got  no  right  ter  detain  ME!  " 

"What  for  not?  "  demanded  the  sheriff  sternly. 
"What  d'  ye  call  this  fix'n'?"  He  opposed  to 
Tubal  Cain  Sims's  nose,  with  the  trifling  interven- 
ient  space  of  an  inch,  his  own  pistol. 

"Shootin' -iron! "  sputtered  Tubal,  squinting 
fearfully  at  it. 

"Worn  in  defiance  o'  the  law  and  to  the  terror 
o'  the  people,"  said  the  sheriff  frowningly.  "I 
have  got  to  be  indicted  myself  or  to  arrest  you  on 
that  charge.  And  I  reckon  you  know  you  ain't 
got  no  right  to  carry  concealed  weepons." 

"Ain't  got  no  right  ter  w'ar  a  shootin'-iron! " 
exclaimed  Tubal  Sims,  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his 
head. 

"Agin  the  law,"  said  the  deputy  airily. 

"Agin  the  law!"  echoed  Tubal  Sims,  his  back 
against  the  wall,  and  his  eyes  turning  first  to  one, 
then  to  the  other  of  his  companions.  "Lord! 
Lord !  I  never  knowed  afore  how  fur  the  flat-woods 
war  ahint  the  mountings!  How  air  ye  goin'  ter 
pertec'  yerself  agin  yer  neighbor  'thout  no  shoot 
in'-iron?"  he  asked  cogently. 

"By  the  law,"  said  both  officers  in  unison. 

"Thar  ain't  no  law  in  the  mountings,  thank 
Gawd !  "  cried  Tubal  Sims. 

"There  is  law  here,"  declared  the  sheriff,  "and 
a  plenty  of  it  to  go  round." 


256  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Thank  Gawd!  "  echoed  the  pious  deputy. 

"Come,  old  man!"  said  the  sheriff.  "Come  in 
here  an'  set  down,  an'  sorter  straighten  out,  an* 
tell  me  what  in  hell  ailed  ye  to  come  bangin'  on 
the  jail  door  with  a  weepon  called  a  shootin'-iron 
till  you  git  yourself  arrested  for  criminal  offense. 
Surely,  surely,  you  have  got  some  reason  in  you." 

He  flung  open  a  door  close  at  hand,  and  Tuhal 
Cain  Sims,  his  knees  trembling  under  him,  so 
great  was  the  nervous  reaction  in  his  metamor 
phosis  from  the  masterful  accuser  to  thr  ili^pnirinjj 
accused,  was  ushered  into  a  room  which  seemed  to 
him  dark  despite  the  glare  of  sunlight  that  fell 
broadside  half  across  the  bare  floor  from  two  t:»ll 
windows,  —  a  gaunt  and  haggard  apartment  sug 
gestive  of  the  intention  of  the  building  of  which  it 
was  a  part.  These  windows  were  not  grated,  but 
the  fleckings  of  moving  clouds  barred  the  sunlight 
on  the  floor,  and  the  mutter  of  thunder  came  re 
newed  to  the  ear.  The  dust  lay  thick  on  the  table 
in  the  centre  of  the  room.  A  lounge  covered  with 
a  startlingly  gay  quilt  was  in  one  corner,  where 
Tubal  Cain  presumed  the  sheriff,  in  moments  of 
fatigue  which  might  be  supposed  to  overpower 
even  his  stiff  military  figure  in  the  deep  midnight, 
slept  with  one  eye  open.  A  desk  in  the  jamb  by 
the  fireplace  held  several  bulky  books,  a  large 
inkstand,  a  bag  of  fine-cut  tobacco,  a  coarse  glass 
tumbler  which  had  nothing  in  it  but  a  rank  smell 
of  a  strong  grade  of  corn  whiskey,  and  a  pipe  half 
full  of  dead  ashes,  which  the  sheriff  had  hastily 


THE  JUGGLER.  257 

laid  aside  when  summoned  to  the  scene  of  the  hor 
rors  perpetrated  by  a  forlorn  human  being  in  the 
desperation  of  the  fear  of  still  greater  horrors  to 
come. 

Tubal  Cain  Sims's  mind,  unaccustomed  to  mor 
bid  influences,  could  not  detach  itself  from  the 
idea.  Despite  his  absorptions  on  his  own  account, 
he  followed  as  an  independent  train  of  thought 
futile  speculations  as  to  where  in  the  building  this 
man  might  be,  —  close  at  hand,  and  he  felt  a  ner 
vous  thrill  at  the  possible  propinquity,  or  in  some 
remote  cell  and  out  of  hearing ;  what  had  he  guilt 
ily  done,  or  was  he  falsely  accused ;  had  he  been 
really  resuscitated,  or  had  the  potentialities  of  life 
merely  flickered  up  like  the  spurious  quickening 
of  a  failing  candle  before  the  moment  of  extinc 
tion,  and  was  he  even  now,  while  the  officers  lin 
gered  here,  dead  again,  and  this  time  beyond 
recall;  or  would  he  not,  left  to  his  own  devices, 
once  more  attempt  his  life  ?  The  old  mountaineer 
could  not  forbear.  He  turned  to  the  sheriff  with 
an  excited  eye. 

"Ain't  ye  'feard  he  '11  hang  hisself  again?  "  he 
said  huskily. 

The  officer  stared.  "Who?  "  he  inquired,  with 
knitted  brow,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  the  occurrence 
absolutely;  then  with  renewing  recollection,  "You 
can  bet  your  life  he  won't." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Sims,  the  clatter  of  his 
boots  on  the  bare  floor  silent  as  he  stopped  short. 

The  deputy  gave  a  fleering  laugh,  ending  in  a 


258  THE  JUGGLER. 

"ki-yi"  of  the  extremity  of  derision.  He  had 
flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and,  with  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  looked  up  with  a  scornful  grin  at  Tubal 
Cain  Sims,  who  seemed  to  entertain  solicitude  as 
to  the  capacities  for  management  and  discipline  of 
Enott  Blake,  famous  as  the  veriest  martinet  of  a 
drill-sergeant  years  before  he  ever  saw  the  inside 
of  Kildeer  County  jail. 

This  absurd  officiousness,  however,  met  with 
more  leniency  from  the  sheriff.  Whether  it  was 
that,  from  his  steady  diet  of  commendation,  his 
vanity  could  afford  to  dispense  with  such  poor 
crumbs  as  Tubal  Cain  Sims  might  have  it  in  his 
power  to  offer,  or  whether  he  was  desirous  of  the 
emollient  effects  of  indulgence  to  loosen  his  visi 
tor's  tongue,  he  apparently  took  no  heed  of  this 
breach  of  the  proprieties. 

"He's  all  right  now.  You  needn't  have  no 
anxiety  'bout  him,"  he  said,  as  if  it  were  a  matter 
of  course  to  be  brought  to  book  in  this  way. 

44 lie  can't  hurt  himself  nor  any  one  else  now," 
echoed  the  deputy,  taking  his  cue. 

Sims  turned  from  one  to  the  other  inquiringly. 

"Got  him  in  a  cage,"  said  the  sheriff  grimly. 

For  one  moment  Tubal  Cain  Sims  silently 
cursed  his  curiosity  that  had  elicited  this  fact  for 
his  knowledge  and  provision  for  future  nightmares. 
It  was  of  the  order  of  things  that  sets  the  natural 
impulses  of  humanity  and  sympathy  adverse  to  all 
the  necessities  of  law  and  justice.  He  stared  at 
the  two  officers,  as  if  they  were  monsters.  Per- 


THE  JUGGLER.  259 

haps  only  his  weapon,  empty  in  the  deputy's  pistol- 
pocket,  persuaded  his  apparent  acquiescence. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  gasped,  "that's  powerful 
tur'ble,  — powerful  tur'ble!  " 

The  sheriff  was  no  mind-reader.  He  deemed 
that  the  allusion  applied  to  the  unjudicial  hanging. 

"Not  so  very,"  he  said,  seating  himself  in  a 
splint-bottomed  chair,  and  elevating  his  boots  to 
the  topmost  bar  of  the  rusty,  fireless  grate. 
"'T ain't  nigh  so  bad  as  havin'  'em  fire  the  jail," 
he  added  gloomily.  "They  have  played  that  joke 
on  me  five  times.  All  this  part  o'  the  buildin'  is 
new.  Burnt  spang  down  the  last  time  we  had  a 
fire." 

"Take  a  chair,  sir,  take  a  chair,"  said  the  con 
formable  deputy,  perceiving  that  politeness  had 
come  to  be  the  order  of  the  day. 

Tubal  Sims,  almost  paralyzed  by  the  number 
and  character  of  the  new  impressions  crowded 
upon  his  unaccustomed  old  brain,  still  stood  star 
ing  from  one  to  the  other,  his  sunburned,  grooved, 
lank-jawed  face  showing  a  sharp  contrast  with  his 
shock  of  tow  hair,  which,  having  been  yellow  and 
growing  partially  gray,  seemed  to  have  reverted  to 
the  lighter  tint  that  it  had  affected  when  he  came 
into  the  world.  His  hat  was  perched  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  and  now  and  then  he  reached  up  to 
readjust  it  there;  some  subtle  connection  surely 
exists  between  the  hat  of  a  man  and  his  brain, 
some  obscure  ganglion,  for  never  does  embarrass 
ment  beset  his  intellect  but  the  solicitous  hand 


777 f.    JUGGLER. 

travels  straight  to  the  outer  integument.  Hi- 
creased  boots  moved  slowly  forward  with  the  je:m-- 
clothed  continuations  above  them.  He  doubtfully 
seized  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and,  still  gazing 
from  one  to  the  other  of  his  companions,  deposited 
himself  with  exaggerated  caution  on  the  stanch 
wooden  seat  as  if  he  half  expected  it  to  collapse 
beneath  him. 

"Now,"  said  the  sheriff  smoothly,  "you  are  a 
sensible  man,  I  know,  an'  I  wish  you  well/' 

"How  'bout  that  thar  pistol?"  said  Tubal  Cain 
Sims,  instantly  presuming  upon  this  expression  of 
amity. 

"I  didn't  make  that  law,"  said  Enott  Blake 
testily.  "But  I  'm  here  to  enforce  it,  and  you  '11 
find  that  I  know  my  duty  an'  will  do  it." 

Tubal  Sims  relapsed  into  his  friendless  despair. 
And  once  more  the  deputy  essayed  a  new  device. 

He  turned  his  round,  red,  freckled,  good-natured 
face  full  upon  the  visitor  across  the  table,  and, 
pushing  back  his  black  hat  from  tin-  blond  tendrils 
that  overhung  his  forehead  like  an  overgrown  in 
fant's,  he  said,  fixing  a  grave  blue  eye  upon  Tubal 
Sims,  "You  came  here  to  tell  us  about  some  crime 
you  've  s'picioned." 

The  sheriff  plucked  up  his  faculties  as  if  an 
inspiration  had  smitten  him.  "You  were  going 
to  give  us  the  names  an'  fac's  as  far  as  you  knew 
or  they  had  developed,"  he  followed  hard  on  the 
heels  of  the  pioneering  deputy. 

"You   caved   after  you   got   here,    'cause  you 


THE  JUGGLER.  261 

wished  the  man  no  harm,  and  the  sight  o'  the  jail 
sorter  staggered  you,"  pursued  the  subordinate. 

"But  you  had  some  personal  motive,"  inter 
jected  the  sheriff,  suddenly  solicitous  for  the  veri 
similitude  of  the  sketch  of  the  interior  workings  of 
Tubal  Cain's  astounded  intellect.  "It  has  to  be 
a  mighty  plain,  open  case,  with  no  s'picion  'bout 
it,  when  information  ain't  got  some  personal  mo 
tive,  —  justifiable,  maybe,  and  without  direct  mal 
ice,  but  personal  motive." 

Tubal  Cain  Sims's  head  turned  from  one  to  the 
other  with  a  pivotal  action  which  was  less  sugges 
tive  of  muscles  than  of  machinery.  His  eyes  were 
starting  from  beneath  his  shaggy,  overhanging 
eyebrows.  His  lower  jaw  had  dropped.  Thus 
dangled  before  him,  his  own  identity  was  as  recog 
nizable  to  him  as  to  their  divination.  If  he  had 
had  time  to  think,  there  might  have  seemed  some 
thing  uncanny  in  this  facile  meddling  with  the 
secrets  of  his  inner  consciousness,  hardly  so  plain 
to  his  own  prognosis  as  in  their  exposition,  but 
moment  by  moment  he  was  hurried  on. 

"Your  personal  motive  in  giving  this  informa 
tion,"  continued  the  deputy,  "is  because  you  are 
afraid  of  the  man." 

"Not  for  myse'f,"  blurted  out  Tubal  Sims. 
"Before  Gawd,  I'll  swear,  not  for  myse'f."  He 
was  all  unaware  of  an  impending  disclosure  of  the 
facts  that  he  had  resolved  to  hide,  since  the  hor 
rors  of  the  jail,  the  true,  visible  presentment  of 
the  abstract  idea  of  imprisonment,  had  burst  upon 


262  THE  JUGGLER. 

his  shuddering  realization.  He  had  forgotten  his 
caution.  His  obstinate  reticence  relaxed.  All  the 
manhood  within  him  roused  to  the  alarm  of  the 
possibility  that  these  officers  should  impute  to  him 
fear  of  any  man  for  his  own  sake.  He  lifted  a 
trembling,  stiffened  old  hand  with  a  deprecatory 
gesture.  "Jes'  one  —  jes'  one  darter!  "  He  low 
ered  his  voice  in  expostulation. 

"One  daughter!  "  echoed  the  sheriff  in  surprise. 

"Gittin'  interestin',"  murmured  the  flippant 
deputy. 

"An'  this  hyar  man  wants  ter  marry  her,  an' 
she  is  willin'  ter  marry  him,  an' — an'  he  spoke 
of  runnin'  away."  Tubal  Cain  Sims  brought  this 
enormity  out  with  a  sudden  dilation  of  the  eyes 
irresistible  to  the  impudent  deputy. 

"  Powerful  painful  to  the  survivors ! "  he  snorted 
in  a  choking  chuckle,  "but  not  even  a  misde 
meanor  agin  the  law  o'  the  land." 

The  sheriff's  countenance  changed.  Not  that 
he  apprehended  any  cause  for  mirth,  for  it  might 
be  safely  said  that  he  had  not  laughed  at  a  joke 
for  the  past  six  years,  and  it  would  have  been  a 
matter  of  some  interest  to  know  how  he  appraised 
the  cachinnation  habitually  going  on  all  around 
about  him,  and  which  he  was  temperamentally 
debarred  from  sharing.  His  face  merely  took  on 
a  perplexed  and  keenly  inquisitive  expression  as 
he  bent  his  brow  as  to  a  worthy  mystery. 

"You  know  a  man  can't  be  arrested  for  runnin' 
away  with  a  young  woman  an'  marry  in'  lu-r,"  In- 


THE  JUGGLER.  263 

expostulated.  "You  ain't  such  a  fool  as  to  think 
you  can  take  the  law  to  him  to  prevent  that." 

There  are  few  people  in  this  world  who  do  not 
arrogate  to  themselves  special  mental  supremacy. 
Folly  is  like  unto  the  jewel  in  the  forehead  of  the 
toad  in  that  the  creature  thus  endowed  is  unaware 
of  its  possession.  Tubal  Cain  Sims  had  perceived 
subacutely  the  acumen  of  both  the  officers,  and 
was  emulous  of  demonstrating  his  own  intellectual 
gifts.  The  word  "fool"  is  a  lash  that  stings,  and, 
smarting,  he  protested :  — 

"The  law  would  purvent  it  mighty  quick  by  not 
waitin*  fur  him,  ef  he  hed  commit  crimes." 

"What  'd  he  ever  do?"  demanded  the  sheriff 
incredulously.  And  the  deputy  sat  very  still  and 
silent. 

Now,  the  peculiarity  of  being  literal-minded  has 
special  reference  to  exoteric  phenomena  introduced 
for  mental  contemplation,  but  is  easily  coexistent 
with  the  evolution  of  an  esoteric  train  of  ideas, 
the  complication  of  which  is  nullified  by  familiarity 
incident  to  their  production.  The  sheriff  was  a 
plain  man,  a  serious-minded  man,  who  could  not 
see  a  joke  when  it  was  before  his  nose;  so  literal- 
minded  a  man  that  because  he  never  perceived  the 
latent  scheme  of  another,  he  himself  was  never 
suspected  of  scheming. 

"What  'd  he  ever  do?  "  he  repeated,  and  it  did 
-not  occur  to  Tubal  Cain  Sims  that  he  had  not  yet 
mentioned  the  juggler's  name,  nor  so  much  as 
suggested  his  own  or  the  locality  whence  he  came. 


264  THE  JUGGLER. 

"I  ain't  keerin'  ter  know  whut  he  done!"  In- 
asseverated,  led  on  by  the  non-compliant  look  of 
the  other.  "I  knmc  he  done  somewhut ;  an' 
Phemie  ain't  goin'  ter  be  'lowed  ter  marry  no  evil 
doer  an'  crim'nal  agin  the  law." 

The  pause  that  ensued  was  unbroken,  while  the 
thunder  rolled  anew,  and  the  dashing  of  the  water 
of  the  surly  black  creek  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
came  to  their  ears.  The  sunshine  on  the  floor 
faded  out  suddenly  and  all  at  once,  and  the  murky 
gray  light  was  devoid  of  any  lingering  shimmer. 
If  the  deputy  breathed,  he  did  not  hear  the  heav 
ing  of  his  own  chest,  so  still  he  was. 

The  sheriff,  having  allowed  in  vain  a  goodly 
margin  for  continuance,  went  on  abruptly :  "That 's 
the  way  you  fellows,  with  no  sense  of  the  obliga 
tions  of  the  law,  carry  on.  You  have  got  no  in 
formation  to  give.  You  have  got  some  personal 
motive,  an'  that 's  the  way  to  get  an  officer  into 
trouble, — false  arrests  an'  charges  of  stirrin'  up 
of  strife  an'  such  like,  — an'  it 's  personal  motive 
always.  I  '11  bet  this  man  o'  yourn  ain't  com 
mitted  no  crime,"  and  he  turned  his  calm  gray 
eyes  on  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  seated  in  the  midst  of 
his  consciousness  of  a  fool  errand  to  the  great 
county  town.  Mortified  pride  surged  to  his  face 
in  a  scarlet  flood,  and  vehement  argument  rose  to 
his  lips. 

"Why  can't  he  sleep  quiet  nights  in  his  bed, 
then?"  he  retorted.  "Why  do  he  holler  out  so 
pitiful,  fit  ter  split  yer  heart,  in  his  sleep.  *  What 


.      .THE  JUGGLER.  265 

can  I  do  ?  For  his  life !  —  his  life !  —  his  life ! 
Oh,  what  can  I  do  —  for  his  life !  —  his  life !  —  his 
life'?" 

The  wind  came  surging  against  the  windows 
with  a  sudden  burst  of  fury,  and  the  sashes  rattled.- 
As  the  gust  passed  to  the  different  angles  of  the 
house,  the  sound  of  other  shaking  casements  came 
from  the  rooms  above  and  across  the  hall,  dulled 
with  the  distance,  till  a  single  remote  vibration  of 
glass  and  wood  told  that  even  in  the  furthest  cells 
the  inmates  of  this  drear  place  might  share  the 
gloomy  influences  of  the  storm,  though  fair  wea 
ther  meant  little  to  them,  and  naught  the  sweet  o' 
the  year.  A  yellow  flash,  swift  and  sinister,  illu 
mined  the  dull,  gray  room,  that  reverted  instantly 
into  gloom,  and,  as  if  the  lightning  were  resolved 
into  rain,  the  windows  received  a  fusillade  of  hur 
tling  drops,  and  then  their  dusty,  cobwebbed  panes 
were  streaked  with  coursing  rivulets  mingling  to 
gether  here  and  there  as  they  ran. 

The  sheriff  sat  silently  awaiting  further  disclo 
sures,  his  eyes  on  the  window,  his  guarded  thoughts 
elsewhere.  "The  same  words  every  night?"  he 
asked  at  last. 

"The  same  words  every  night,"  repeated  Tubal 
Cain  reluctantly,  as  if  making  an  admission. 

"Oh,  you  can't  arrest  a  man  for  talking  in  his 
sleep,"  put  in  the  deputy,  with  the  air  of  flouting 
the  whole  revelation  as  a  triviality;  and  he  yawned 
with  much  verisimilitude,  showing  a  very  red 
mouth  inside  and  two  rows  of  stanch  white  teeth. 


266  THE  JUGGLER. 

"I  ain't  sech  a  fool  ez  that,  Mr.  Dep'ty," 
snarled  Tubal  Sims  raucously;  "but  puttin'  sech 
ez  that  tergether  with  a  pale  face  an'  blue  circles 
round  the  eyes,  in  the  morniu',  o'  the  stronges', 
finest-built,  heartiest  young  rooster  I  ever  seen  in 
my  life,  —  he  could  fling  you  or  the  sher'ff  from 
hyar  clean  acrost  that  creek, — an'  lay  in'  on  the 
i  uver-bank  day  arter  day  fishin'  with  no  bait  on 
his  hook  "  — 

"What'd  he  catch?"  queried  the  deputy,  af 
fecting  anxious  eagerness. 

"All  he  expected,  I  reckon,"  retorted  Sims. 
"A-layin'  thar,  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  day 
arter  day;  an'  his  eyes  looked  ez  tormented  ez  — 
ez  a  deer  I  shot  wunst  ez  couldn't  git  up  ter  run 
an'  could  n't  hurry  up  an'  die  in  time,  an'  jes'  laid 
thar  an'  watched  me  an'  the  dogs  come  up.  An' 
this  man's  eyes  looked  jes'  like  that  deer's,  — an* 
I  never  let  the  dogs  worry  him,  but  jes'  whipped 
out  my  knife  an'  cut  his  throat." 

The  deputy's  eyes  widened  with  pretended  hor 
ror.  He  snatched  a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  the 
drawer  at  the  side  of  the  table,  and,  rising,  ex 
claimed  dramatically,  "You  say,  in  cold  blood,  you 
whipped  out  your  knife  and  cut  the  man's  throat! " 

"Ye  think  ye  air  powerful  smart,  Mr.  Dep'ty," 
sneered  Sims,  out  of  countenance,  nevertheless. 
"But  thar  ain't  much  credit  in  baitin'  an'  tor- 
men  tin'  a  man  old  enough  ter  be  yer  father," 
remembering  the  sheriff's  ivlmkr  on  this  score, 
and  imputing  to  him  a  veneration  for  the  aged. 


THE  JUGGLER.  26? 

"Yes,  stop  that  monkey  in',  Jeemes,"  Blake  sol 
emnly  admonished  his  junior.  Then,  after  silently 
eying  the  rain  still  turbulently  dashing  against  the 
windows,  he  said  reflectively,  "Don't  ye  think, 
Mr.  — Mr.  — I  disremember  your  name?" 

"Sims,  — Tubal  Cain  Sims,"  replied  the  owner 
of  that  appellation. 

"Oh  yes;  Mr.  Sims.  Don't  you  think  the  fel 
ler's  jest  a  leetle  lazy?  There's  no  law  against 
laziness,  though  it  needs  legislation,  being  a  deal 
more  like  the  tap-root  of  evil  than  what  money  is, 
—  though  I  don't  set  up  my  views  against  the 
Good  Book." 

"  'Pears  like  't  warn't  laziness,  which  may  be  a 
sin,  but  makes  men  fat,  an'  ez  long  ez  the  pot 
holds  out  ter  bile,  happy.  This  man  warn't 
happy  nor  fat,  an'  he  looked  like  the  devils  hed 
thar  home  with  him." 

"Where  did  he  come  from,  and  what's  his 
name?  " 

"He  'lowed,  one  day,  from  Happy  Valley,  but 
he  didn't  know  whar  Happy  Valley  war.  An'  he 
talks  like  a  town  man,  an'  reads  a  power,  an'  tells 
tales  ez  Phemie  say  air  out  o'  books;  an'  he  gin 
a  show  "  — 

"A  show?  "  the  sheriff  interrupted. 

"A  juggling  show,"  pursued  Tubal  Sims,  in 
higher  feather  since  they  no  longer  dissimulated 
their  absorption  in  these  details.  "He  calls  his- 
se'f  a  juggler,  though  his  name  is  John  Leonard." 

"What 's  he  live  on?"  demanded  the  sheriff. 


268  THE  JUGGLER. 

"The  money  he  made  at  his  show.  He  'lowed 
ter  gin  more  shows,  but  the  church  folks  gin  it  out 
ez  he  war  in  league  with  Satan,  an'  threatened  ter 
dump  him  in  the  ruver,  so  he  quit  juggliu'." 

The  deputy  with  difficulty  repressed  a  guffaw, 
but  asked,  with  a  keen  curiosity,  "Was  it  a  pretty 
good  show?" 

"Ye  never  seen  nuthin'  like  it  in  yer  life.  He 
jes'"- 

"What  sort  of  lookin'  man  is  he?"  interrupted 
the  sheriff.  He  cast  a  glance  at  the  deputy,  who 
unobtrusively  began  to  busy  himself  with  pen,  ink, 
and  paper,  and  was  presently  scribbling  briskly  as 
Tubal  Cain  Sims  sought  to  describe  the  stranger. 

"He  looks  some  like  a  mountain  feller  now,"  he 
said.  "He  paid  my  wife  ter  make  him  some 
clothes;  but  shucks!"  his  eye  kindling  with  the 
glow  of  discursive  reminiscence,  "the  clothes  he 
kem  thar  in  war  a  sight  fur  the  jay-birds,  —  leetle 
pants  ez  kem  down  no  furder  'n  that,  an'  long 
stockin's  like  a  gal's,  an'  no  mo'  'shamed  of  'em  'n 
I  am  o'  my  coat-collar;  a  striped  black-an'-red 
coat  he  hed  on,  an'  long,  p'inted  reddish  shoes." 
He  paused  to  laugh,  while  a  glance  of  fiery  excite 
ment  and  significance  shot  from  the  eyes  of  one 
officer  into  those  of  the  other. 

Far  better  than  Tubal  Sims  they  knew  how  to 
place  the  wearer  of  this  sophisticated  costume. 
For  although  their  bailiwick  was  the  compass  of 
the  county,  their  official  duties  carried  them  occa 
sionally  to  neighboring  cities  and  tlu-ir  suburbs: 


THE  JUGGLER.  269 

and  while  rolling  so  rapidly  was  not  conducive  to 
gathering  moss  for  personal  embellishment,  it  af 
forded  opportunity  for  observation  not  altogether 
thrown  away.  This  man  was  out  of  place,  —  a 
wanderer,  evidently ;  but  whether  a  fugitive  from 
justice  remained  to  be  proved. 

And  while  Tubal  Cain  Sims  talked  convulsively 
on,  hardly  realizing  whither  his  reminiscences  led, 
the  expert  penman  was  quietly  noting  down  all  the 
personal  traits  of  poor  Lucien  Royce,  —  his  height, 
his  weight,  his  size,  the  color  of  his  hair  and  eyes, 
the  quality  of  his  complexion,  the  method  of  his 
enunciation,  and  the  polish  of  his  manner,  —  all  in 
the  due  and  accepted  form  of  advertisement  for 
criminals,  minus  the  alluring  sum  offered  for  their 
apprehension  by  the  governor  of  the  State. 

Tubal  Cain  Sims  did  not  note  the  cessation  of 
the  scraping  of  the  pen,  but  the  sheriff  did,  and 
it  was  within  a  few  moments  that  he  said,  "Well, 
Mr.  Sims,  this  offers  no  ground  for  arrestin'  the 
man.  But  I  '11  give  you  a  piece  of  advice,  —  don't 
let  him  know  of  your  errand  here,  or  he  '11  take 
French  leave  of  you  and  take  the  girl  with  him. 
I  can't  arrest  him  for  you  " 

"Courtin'  's  the  inalienable  right  of  man,  and, 
in  leap  year,  of  woman  too,"  sputtered  the  deputy, 
with  his  pen  in  his  mouth  and  his  laugh  crowding 
it. 

"But,"  continued  the  sheriff,  "as  I  have  some 
business  up  that  way,  I  may  come  over  soon  an' 
look  after  him,  myself.  Say  nothin',  though, 


270  THE  JUGGLER. 

about  that,  or  you'll  lose  your  daughter, — just 
one  daughter."          • 

"One  darter,"  echoed  Tubal  Sims,  his  eyes  ab 
sorbed  and  docile  as  he  followed  the  crafty  officer's 
speech. 

"Say  nothin'  to  nobody,  and  I  '11  see  you  before 
long."  Then  suddenly  leaving  the  subject,  with 
a  briskening  style  he  turned  to  the  deputy. 
"  Jeeiues,  take  Mr.  Sims  before  a  magistrate,  — 
Squair  Purdy,  I  'd  recommend,  — on  a  charge  of 
carrying  weepons  with  the  intent  o'  goin'  armed. 
Let  him  know,  though,  Mr.  Sims,  'twas  in  igno 
rance  of  the  law,  and  a-travelin'.  Remind  him 
that  the  code  says  the  statute  is  to  be  liberally 
construed.  And  remember  that  Jeemes  can't 
swear  that  old  army  pistol  was  concealed  on  no 
account.  I  don't  b'lieve  Jeemes  kin  make  out  a 
case  agin  ye.  Squair  Purdy  is  mighty  lenient." 

"Ain't  you-uns  goin'?"  quavered  Mr.  Sims, 
distrusting  the  tender  mercies  of  the  facetious 
James. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  sheriff,  now  far  away  in 
the  contemplation  of  other  matters.  "Jeemes,  go 
to  the  telephone  and  ring  up  the  cap'n  in  Knox- 
ville.  I  want  to  speak  to  him." 

It  only  seemed  a  great  babbling  of  a  little  bell 
in  the  grim  twilight  of  the  hall  of  the  jail  as  the 
deputy  piloted  Tubal  Cain  Sims  out  of  the  door 
which  had  so  obdurately  closed  on  him.  And  how 
should  his  ignorance  conceive  that  within  three 
minutes  the  chief  of  police  in  Knoxville  was  listen- 


THE  JUGGLER.  271 

ing  to  the  description  of  poor  Lucien  Royce,  given 
by  the  sheriff  »of  Kildeer  County,  and  trying  for 
his  life  to  reconcile  its  dissimilarities  with  the  phy 
sical  traits  of  various  missing  malefactors  sadly 
wanted  by  the  police  in  divers  localities? 


X. 

IT  was  with  a  mild  countenance  and  a  chastened 
heart  that  Tubal  Sims  rode  up  to  his  own  door  the 
next  evening,  and  slowly  dismounted,  his  old 
brains,  stiff  with  the  limited  uses  of  a  narrow  rou 
tine,  dazed  and  racked  by  the  brisk  pace  which 
they  had  been  fain  to  conserve  in  the  wide  circuits 
which  they  had  traveled  in  his  absence.  Never 
had  the  cabin  on  the  river-bank  looked  so  like 
home;  never  had  home  seemed  so  like  heaven. 
For  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  in  his  secret  soul,  cared 
little  for  the  bedizenments  of  crowns,  and  the 
superfluities  of  harps,  and  the  extravagance  of 
streets  paved  with  gold,  and  the  like  celestial  scen 
ery  of  his  primitive  hymnology.  The  sight  of 
Jane  Ann  Sims  on  the  porch,  her  bulky  arms 
akimbo,  the  flutter  of  Euphemia's  pink  dress  with 
the  dark  red  roses  from  the  slope  of  the  dell  where 
the  spring  lurked,  could  have  been  no  dearer  to 
him  if  they  had  had  wings,  —  which  appurtenance, 
however,  in  his  lack  of  spiritual  imagination, 
would  have  reduced  them  to  a  turkey-like  stand 
point  or  other  gallinaceous  level.  He  hardly  re 
membered  to  dread  Jane  Ann's  questionings;  and 
perhaps  because  of  this  beatific  ca-r  of  mind,  the 
humble  works  of  fiction,  which  the  puritanical 


THE  JUGGLER.  273 

might  denominate  lies,  that  had  occupied  his  facul 
ties  during  his  return  journey,  were  exploited  with 
a  verisimilitude  which  received  the  meed  of  credu 
lity.  He  stated  that  the  thought  of  Jerry  Gryce, 
his  brother-in-law,  and  a  paralytic,  dwelling  in 
Piomingo  Cove,  had  weighed  so  on  his  mind,  in 
wakeful  hours  of  the  night,  that  he  had  felt  obliged 
to  rise  betimes  and  journey  thither  to  see  that  all 
was  well  with  him.  And  a  cheerful  report  he  was 
able  to  give  of  that  invalid,  —  for  indeed  he  had 
stopped  in  Piomingo  Cove  on  the  way  back,  — 
who  had  charged  him  with  some  asperity,  however, 
being  a  superstitious  man,  to  have  a  care  how  he 
took  the  liberty  of  dreaming  about  him,  or  nour 
ishing  presentiments  in  which  he  was  concerned,  or 
viewing  visions.  "I  kin  do  all  my  own  dreamin' 
an'  ghost-seein'  too,  thanky  kindly,"  he  had  said 
satirically. 

Jane  Ann  Sims  was  the  less  penetrating  as  she 
herself  had  developments  of  interest  to  detail.  In 
a  wheezy,  husky  whisper  that  had  less  the  elements 
of  confidential  relation  than  a  shriek  might  have 
compassed,  she  made  plain  the  altered  state  of 
Euphemia's  affections  and  the  understanding  which 
she  and  the  juggler  had  reached. 

It  is  wonderful  how  little  mental  capital  a  man 
need  possess  to  deceive  the  cleverest  wife.  Tubal 
Cain  Sims,  seated  in  the  open  passage,  tilted  far 
back  against  the  wall  in  his  chair,  his  saddle  on 
the  floor  beneath  his  dangling  feet  and  his  mare 
cropping  the  grass  beside  the  step,  sustained  every 


274  THE  JUGGLER. 

appropriate  pose  of  surprised  interest  as  success 
fully  as  if  Mrs.  Sims's  story  were  new  to  his 
ears.  How  could  she,  even  if  infinitely  more 
astute,  have  dreamed  that  it  was  the  recital  of 
these  same  facts  which  he  had  overheard  that  had 
sent  him  straight  to  Colbury  with  the  instant  de 
termination  to  have  his  would-be  son-in-law  incar 
cerated  on  a  criminal  charge,  before  more  romance 
could  come  of  the  juggler's  stay  in  Etowah  Cove? 
She  had  expected  opposition,  having  divined  Tubal 
Sims's  disapproval  of  his  guest  from  his  pcrturlx-d 
and  unwontedly  crusty  manner,  and  was  scarcely 
prepared  for  the  mildly  temporizing  way  in  which 
he  received  the  disclosure. 

"  Humph  —  a  —  waal,  we-uns  will  hev  ter  gin  it 
cornsideration,  Jane  Ann,  a  power  o'  cornsidera- 
tion,  an' '  —  he  suddenly  remembered  his  piety  — 
"some  pray'r.  Watch  an'  pray,  Jane  Ann." 

"I'm  ekal  ter  my  pray  in'  'thout  yer  exhort- 
in's,"  she  retorted,  with  proper  spirit.  "An'  ef 
ye  don't  wanter  set  Phemie  agin  ye,  ye  'd  better 
do  yer  own  prayin'  powerful  private."  She  could 
not  forbear  this  gibe,  albeit  at  the  idol  of  tlu>m 
both.  It  was  in  graver  and  agitated  mood  that 
she  revealed  how  the  idea  of  an  elopement  had 
seemed  to  appeal  to  the  young  man's  mind,  —  so 
much,  indeed,  that  she  began  to  fear  he  would 
welcome  any  parental  opposition  which  would 
make  it  practicable.  And  h»-rc  sh<-  found  Tubal 
Cain  at  one  with  her  own  thoughts,  go  a-quiver 
with  her  own  fears  that  she  felt  all  at  once  holder, 


THE  JUGGLER.  275 

as  if  by  communicating  them  they  had  mysteriously 
exhaled.  Not  so  Tubal  Cain  Sims.  It  is  to  be 
doubted  whether  in  all  his  life  he  was  ever  so  ear 
nestly  and  markedly  benign  and  courteous  as  when 
he  again  met  the  juggler.  His  whole  manner  was 
so  charged  with  the  sentiment  of  placation  that 
the  young  man's  quick  discernment  easily  divined 
his  state  of  mind  and  his  covert  terrors.  It  elimi 
nated  for  the  present  any  other  course  of  action 
than  drifting  along  the  smooth  tides  of  love's 
young  dream,  for  no  elopement  was  possible  when 
there  was  naught  from  which  to  flee. 

What  wonderful  days  they  were,  as  the  full, 
strong  pulses  of  June  began  to  beat  with  the  fer 
vors  of  July!  The  long,  ripe  hours  from  early 
dawn  to  the  late-lingering  twilight  held  all  the 
choicest  flavors  of  the  year.  Never  was  the  sunset 
so  gorgeously  triumphal;  never  was  the  dawn  so 
dank  with  dew,  so  fresh  of  scent,  so  winged  with 
zephyrs.  The  wilderness  rang  to  the  song  of  the 
thrush  and  of  the  mocking-bird,  not  less  vocal 
now  than  with  the  impulse  of  spring.  The  brim 
ming  river  yet  ran  deep  in  its  rocky  channel,  and 
the  voice  of  the  cascade  below  the  mill  in  the  full- 
leaved  joyous  woods  could  be  heard  for  miles  on  a 
still  night.  And  how  still  were  these  nights  of 
silent  splendor,  with  the  stars  so  whitely  a-glitter 
in  the  deep  blue  spaces  above,  and  a  romantic 
mystery  on  the  mute  purple  mountains  below,  and 
the  great  bespangled  gossamer  Galaxy,  as  if  veil 
ing  some  sanctity  of  heaven,  scintillating  through 


276  THE  JUGGLER. 

all  the  darkness!  Not  till  late  — till  so  late  that 
no  one  was  awake  to  heed  or  behold  —  a  yellow 
waning  moon  with  a  weird  glamour  would  glide 
over  the  eastern  summits,  and  in  its  precarious 
hour  before  the  flush  of  early  dawn  illumine  the 
world  with  some  sad  forecast,  with  slow  troublous 
augury  of  change  and  decline  and  darkness. 

Flowers  in  myriads  budded  at  night  to  blow  in 
the  morning.  Everywhere  the  strong,  rich,  vigor 
ous  growths  unfolded  to  the  sun.  The  leaves 
were  thick  in  the  woods,  the  shadows  were  dark 
and  cool,  and  rivulets  glanced  in  the  midst  of  them 
like  live  leaping  crystal.  Anywhere  down  deep 
ravines,  did  one  look  long  enough,  were  to  be  seen 
all  the  creatures  of  woodland  poesy,  evoked  from 
the  glamours  of  the  June,  —  hamadryads  at  their 
bosky  ease,  and  oreads  among  the  craggy  misty 
heights,  and  naiads  dabbling  at  the  margin  of  shel 
tered  springs,  and  elves  listening  alert  with  pointed 
ears  to  the  piping  of  the  wind  in  the  reeds. 

These  June  days  seemed  to  Royce  as  if  he  held 
them  in  perpetuity,  —  as  if  there  could  be  no 
change  save  for  the  slow  enhancement  of  all  the 
charms  of  nature,  bespeaking  further  perfections. 
The  past  was  so  bitter ;  the  present  was  so  sweet ; 
and  he  thought  no  more  of  the  future.  He  was 
content.  He  had  developed  a  certain  adaptability 
to  the  uncouth  conditions  of  the  simple  life  here, 
or  love  had  limited  his  observation  and  had  con 
centrated  it.  All  the  artificialities  of  his  wonted 
standards  had  fallen  from  him.  ami  h<-  was  liaj>]>v 


THE  JUGGLER.  277 

in  the  simplest  way.  He  wondered  that  he  should 
ever  have  thought  the  girl  beautiful  and  charming 
hitherto,  so  embellished  was  her  loveliness  now; 
as  if  she  too  shared  the  ineffable  radiance  and 
grace  of  the  June,  with  the  fair  and  faintly  tinted 
roses  known  as  "the  maiden 's-blush  "  that  grew  just 
outside  the  door.  He  had  told  her  that  they  were 
like  her,  and  when  he  learned  the  old-fashioned 
name  he  wore  one  always  stuck  in  the  clumsy,  ill- 
worked  buttonhole  of  his  blue-checked  cotton  shirt. 
So  pervasive  was  the  sentiment  of  happiness  in 
the  house  that  it  suffused  even  the  consciousness 
of  the  two  old  people ;  Jane  Ann  accepting  it  will 
ingly  and  with  vicarious  joy,  and  Tubal  Cain 
yielding  after  many  a  qualm  of  doubt  and  tremor 
of  fear,  and  still  experiencing  strong  twinges  of 
remorse.  He  had  been  led  to  believe,  by  the 
crafty  sheriff's  show  of  indifference  to  his  disclo 
sure,  and  repeated  rejection  as  naught  the  signifi 
cant  points  of  the  suspicion  he  had  entertained, 
that  he  had  been  wrong  from  the  first  in  his  con 
clusion.  He  had  begun  to  argue  from  the  officer's 
standpoint,  and  he  was  amazed  and  somewhat  dis 
mayed  to  perceive  how  slight  were  the  grounds  on 
which  any  reasonable  charge  could  be  based.  As 
this  conviction  grew  more  decided,  he  anticipated, 
with  an  ever  increasing  terror,  the  possible  visit  of 
which  the  sheriff  had  casually  spoken.  Although 
he  was  sure  now  that,  officially  considered,  it  could 
but  be  a  flash  in  the  pan,  still  it  would  reveal  to 
the  juggler  his  host's  hideous  suspicions  and  fla- 


278  THE  JUGGLER. 

grant  breach  of  hospitality,  and  from  this  Tulcil 
Sims  winced  as  from  corporeal  pain.  He  thought 
that  the  sheriff  already  considered  him  a  j>r« -|>.»t.T- 
ous  fool;  and  albeit  that  judgment  from  so  great  a 
man  —  for  Tubal  Cain  Situs's  self-conceit  had  been 
much  abated  by  his  trip  to  Colbury  —  was  humili 
ating  to  his  pride,  it  would  be  far  more  poignant, 
multiplied  by  the  number  of  inhabitants  in  the 
Cove,  when  published  abroad  and  entertained  by 
every  man  who  dwelt  in  its  vicinity.  Moreover, 
the  disclosure  of  his  mission  to  Colbury  would 
deliver  the  graceless  informer,  bound  hand  and 
foot  as  it  were,  into  the  power  of  Jane  Ann  Sims, 
and  it  might  well  alienate  the  juggler  from  them 
all  and  thus  wreck  Euphemia's  happiness  and  pro 
spects  in  life ;  and  he  had  begun  of  late  to  value 
these.  Whenever  he  was  not  mulishly  resistant, 
he  fell  much  under  the  influence  of  Jane  Ann  Sims, 
and  her  views  of  the  preeminent  qualities  of  the 
juggler's  mind  and  manners  and  morals  affected 
his  estimate.  She  laid  great  stress  on  the  fact  of 
the  young  man's  elaborate  education,  and  was  wont 
to  toss  her  large  head  with  a  vertigo-provoking 
lightness  as  she  averred,  "Phemie  warn't  a-spell- 
in'  year  in  an'  year  out  ter  marry  one  o'  these  hyar 
Cove  boys  ez  dunno  B  from  bull-foot!  "  And  Tu 
bal  Cain  would  sneer  in  sympathetic  scorn,  as  if 
both  he  and  his  wife  were  not  in  precisely  that 
sublime  state  of  ignorance  themselves.  He  shared 
her  pride  in  a  plan  which  the  juggler  had  evolved 
to  open  a  school  in  the  little  "rhureh-house"  when 


THE  JUGGLER.  279 

the  crops  should  be  laid  by,  and  in  the  fact  that 
this  suggestion  had  met  with  the  readiest  accept 
ance  for  miles  around,  despite  the  prejudice  touch 
ing  his  feats  of  magic. 

One  night,  Jane  Ann  Sims,  with  the  dish-cloth 
in  her  hand,  was  alternately  wiping  the  supper 
dishes  in  the  shed-room  and  cheerfully  wheezing 
breathless  snatches  of  a  most  lugubrious  hymn, 
while  Royce  and  Euphemia  sat  on  the  steps  of  the 
passage,  where  the  moon,  now  in  her  first  quarter, 
drew  outlines  of  the  vines  on  the  floor,  —  with 
here  the  similitude  of  a  nest,  whence  now  a  wake 
ful,  watching  head  protruded,  and  now  a  lifted 
wing,  and  now  a  downy,  ball-like  bulk ;  and  here, 
with  indistinct  verges,  a  cluster  of  quivering  trum 
pet-flowers,  all  dusky  and  blurring,  like  the  smudg 
ing  black-and-white  study  of  some  impressionist 
artist.  Tubal  Cain  Sims,  seeking  company,  was 
aware,  as  he  entered  his  domicile,  that  he  would 
find  no  welcome  here,  so  he  betook  himself,  with 
his  pipe  in  hand,  to  the  leisurely  scene  of  his  help 
meet's  labors.  There  triumph  awaited  him,  for 
Jane  Ann  Sims  left  the  table  and  the  dishes  to  the 
tallow  dip  and  the  candle-flies,  to  sink  down  in  a 
chair  and  detail  the  fact  that  while  he  was  gone  to 
the  blacksmith's  shop  to  get  his  team  shod  a  won 
derful  event  had  happened.  Parson  Tynes  had 
been  here  again ! 

Tubal  Cain  Sims's  lower  jaw  dropped.  Parson 
Tynes  figured  in  his  mind  only  as  the  troublous 
advocate  of  a  dead-and-gone  love,  and  he  thought 


280  THE  JUGGLER. 

it  a  breach  of  the  peace,  in  effect,  to  seek  to  dis 
inter  and  resuscitate  this  ill-starred  attachment. 
He  growled  adversely,  but  he  did  not  reach  the 
point  of  articulate  remonstrance,  for  Jane  Ann 
Sims  majestically  waved  her  limp  dish-cloth  at 
him  as  a  signal  to  desist,  and  opened  her  mouth 
very  wide  to  emit  the  cause  of  her  prideful  sati-- 
faction  in  a  loud  and  wheezy  whisper,  —  which  dis 
creet  demonstration  came  sibilantly  to  the  ears  of 
the  young  people  outside,  the  only  other  human 
creatures  within  a  mile,  and  occasioned  them  much 
unfilial  merriment. 

Parson  Tynes  no  longer  dwelt  on  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage.  Ambition  had  been  his  theme. 
It  seemed  that  once,  not  long  ago,  being  in  Col- 
bury  when  a  great  revival  —  a  union  meeting  of 
various  denominations  —  was  held,  he  had  had  the 
opportunity  to  preach  there  through  some  wild 
rumor  of  his  celebrity  as  a  mountain  orator;  and 
afterward  a  certain  visiting  elderly  minister  had 
taken  him  aside  and  urged  him  to  study  and  to 
cultivate  his  gifts,  and  above  all  to  acquire  a  de 
livery.  The  visiting  city  minister,  being  a  man 
who  appreciated  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains  as  a 
large  and  impressive  element  of  scenery,  and  hav 
ing  never  seen  them  except  gracing  the  horizon,  did 
not  realize  that  in  all  their  commodiousness  they 
had  scant  accommodations  for  learning.  On  his 
part,  Tynes  did  not  appreciate  any  especial  supe 
riority  in  the  delivery  of  tin-  men  he  had  heard. 
His  slow  drawl  and  his  mi-;|>r<uiuuciHti<>iis  were, 


THE  JUGGLER.  281 

of  course,  unperceived  by  him,  and,  speaking  from 
a  worldly  point  of  view,  he  was  chiefly  refreshed 
at  the  meeting  by  the  consciousness  that  there 
were  many  more  ideas  in  his  sermon  than  in  that 
of  the  visiting  city  minister.  He  wondered  satiri 
cally  how  the  good  man  would  have  received  the 
converse  of  this  charge,  had  he  dared  to  exhort 
him  in  turn  to  cultivate  thought  and  acquire  ideas. 
The  meeting  had  done  Tynes  no  good.  It  had 
only  hurt  his  pride,  and  roused  a  certain  animosity 
toward  the  larger  world  outside  his  life  and  the 
round  of  his  work,  and  caused  him  to  contemn  as 
spurious  the  pretensions  of  the  luckier  clergy.  He 
did  not  accord  the  advice  he  had  received  a  single 
thought,  so  much  more  important  it  seemed  to  him 
what  a  preacher  says  than  how  he  says  it.  But 
Jane  Ann  Sims  had  talked  much  and  pridefully  to 
her  cronies  in  the  Cove  about  the  juggler's  "read- 
in's,"  and  their  fame  had  reached  the  parson's 
ears.  Shortly  after,  he  chanced  to  encounter 
Royce  at  the  mill,  and  for  the  first  time  was  im 
pressed  by  the  charm  of  a  cultured  enunciation  in 
a  naturally  beautiful  voice.  "I'd  like  powerful 
well  ter  speak  like  that,  now,"  he  said  to  himself, 
with  a  sudden  discrimination  of  superiority.  And 
this  afternoon  he  had  come  to  say  that  he  had 
heard  of  the  projected  school,  and  that  he  would 
like  to  know  whether  the  juggler  had  ever  been 
taught  elocution  and  was  qualified  to  impart  his 
knowledge.  Royce  had  read  for  him,  —  or  rather, 
had  recited  from  memory,  —  and  Tynes  had  been. 


282  THE  JUGGLER. 

surprised  and  delighted,  and  had  avrrn-d  that  lie 
read  "better  'n  all  the  men  at  the  union  meeting 
shook  up  in  a  bag  together,  the  city  minister  at 
the  bottom." 

"But  ye  would  hev  been  s'prised,  Tubal,"  said 
Mrs.  Sims,  her  fat  face  clouding  and  In  r  dimple 
turning  to  creases,  "ter  hev  viewed  the  gam« •>«>mr 
an'  jokified  way  ez  John  Leonard  conducted  hi-- 
self  ter  the  pa'son  —  plumb  scandalous  —  made  a 
puffeck  laffin' -match  o'  the  whole  consarn;  though 
arter  a  while  the  pa'son  seemed  some  less  serious, 
too.  But  he  an'  John  Leonard  air  a-goin'  ter 
meet  every  day,  beginnin'  day  arter  ter-morrer.  in 
the  schoolhouse,  ter  take  lessons  in  readin'.  An' 
the  pa'son  pays  him  fur  it.  Jes'  think  o'  that  ' 
Her  hand  with  the  limp  dish-cloth  in  it  extended 
itself  impressively.  "Teachin'  the  pa'son  —  the 
pa'son,  mind  ye  —  ter  read !  " 

Tubal  Cain  Sims  sat  electrified  by  the  honor. 
Now  and  again  his  stiff  old  visage  relaxed  with  a 
broad  smile,  but  this  some  grave  thought  suddenly 
puckered  up.  In  the  midst  of  his  satisfaction  and 
his  appropriation  of  the  honor  that  had  descended 
upon  his  house,  ever  and  anon  a  secret  thought  of 
his  earlier  distrust  of  the  juggler  intruded  with  a 
vaguely  haunting  fear  of  the  promised  visit  from 
the  sheriff.  This  he  had  latterly  put  from  him, 
for  the  long  silence  and  the  passage  of  time  war 
ranted  him  in  the  conclusion  that  it  had  been 
merely  a  device  of  the  officer  to  >ati-t\  a  meddle 
some  old  fool,  and  was  from  the  beginning  devoid 


THE  JUGGLER.  283 

of  intention.  He  hardly  dared  to  wonder  what 
Jane  Ann  Sims  would  have  thought  of  his  suspi 
cion,  as  he  remembered  that  from  the  moment  of 
the  juggler's  entrance  on  that  stormy  evening  she 
had  rated  the  young  guest  as  highly  as  now.  But 
then,  it  had  never  been  her  chance  to  hear  those 
strange,  mysterious  utterances  from  the  turmoils 
of  midnight  dreams. 

"Jane  Ann,"  Tubal  Sims  said,  with  quavering 
solemnity,  "I  know  this  hyar  young  man  be  pow 
erful  peart,  an'  thar  's  nobody  in  the  kentry  ter 
ekal  him,  not  even  Pa' son  Tynes;  but  what  would 
you-uns  think  ef  ye  war  ter  hear  him  call  out,  like 
I  hev  done,  in  the  night,  —  'way  late,  'bout  the 
darkest  hour,  —  '  But  the  one  who  lives !  —  fur 
whose  life !  —  his  life !  —  fur  his  life !  —  what  can  I 
do !  —  fur  his  life !  —  his  life !  —  it  must  be !  —  his 
life!'" 

As  he  mimicked  the  cabalistic  phrases  that  had 
so  strongly  laid  hold  upon  his  imagination,  the 
very  inflections  of  the  agonized  voice  were  dupli 
cated.  The  sentiment  of  mystery,  of  awe,  with 
which  the  air  was  wont  to  vibrate  was  imparted 
anew.  The  despair,  the  remorse  of  the  tones,  sent 
a  responsive  thrill  like  a  fang  into  the  listener's 
heart.  Jane  Ann  Sims,  her  face  blank  and  white, 
sat  staring  dumbly  as  she  hearkened.  The  leaves 
darkly  rustled  close  to  the  window.  Dim  moon 
light  flecked  the  ground  on  the  slope  beyond  with 
shadow  and  a  dull  suffusive  sheen.  The  wind, 
rushing  gustily  past,  bowed  the  flame  of  the  gut- 


284  THE  JUGGLER. 

tering  tallow  dip,  feebly  flaring,  in  the  centre  of 
the  table.  As  she  put  out  her  hand  mechanically 
to  shield  it  from  extinction,  the  motion  and  the 
trifling  care  seemed  to  restore  her  mental  equi 
librium. 

"That  sounds  powerful  cur'ous,  Tubal,"  she 
said  gravely,  and  his  heart  sank  in  disappointment 
with  the  words  and  tone.  He  had  expected  Jane 
Ann  Sims  to  flout  the  matter  aside  loftily,  and 
indignantly  decline  to  consider  aught  that  might 
reflect  on  her  much-admired  guest.  It  was  he 
himself  who  began  to  feel  that  it  was  of  slight 
moment  and  hardly  worth  detailing;  the  sheriff 
had  barely  listened  to  it,  without  lifting  an  eye 
lash  of  tired  and  drowsy  eyes.  He  was  sorry  he 
had  told  Jane  Ann.  What  a  pother  women  are 
wont  to  stir  up  over  a  trifle ! 

"Why  ain't  you-uns  never  spoke  of  it  afore?" 
she  demanded. 

"Kase  I  'lowed  't  would  set  you-uns  agin  him," 
said  the  specious  Tubal  tentatively. 

Jane  Ann  sniffed  contemptuously.  "Waal,  I 
ain't  been  'quainted  with  no  men  so  powerful  puf- 
feck  in  all  thar  ways  ez  I  kin  be  sot  agin  a  young 
ster,  what  eats  a  hearty  supper,  fur  talkin'  in  hi* 
sleep.  I  'd  be  a  powerful  admirer  of  the  *  sterner 
sex,'  ez  Pa'son  Greenought  calls  'em,  ef  I  knowed 
no  wuss  of  'em  'n  that." 

"Wha — wha — what  ye  goin'  ter  do  'bout'n  it, 
Jane  Ann?"  sputtered  Tubal  Cain,  seeing  her 
ponderously  rising,  determination  on  her  strong 
features. 


THE  JUGGLER.  285 

"I  be  goin'  ter  ax  him  what  he  means  by  it, 
that 's  what,"  said  Jane  Ann.  And  before  Tubal 
Cain  could  protest,  she  was  leaning  out  of  the 
window  and  wheezily  calling  to  the  young  people 
slowly  strolling  along  the  slope  before  the  door. 

"Kem  in,  chil'n.  I  want  ter  ax  John  Leonard 
a  kestion." 

She  met  him  at  the  entrance  of  the  passage,  the 
tallow  dip  in  her  hand,  glowing  with  a  divergent 
aureola  of  white  rays  against  the  dusky  brown 
shadows  and  green  leaves  of  the  vines  opposite. 
He  paused,  expectant,  while  Euphemia,  in  her 
green  dress,  stood  on  the  sill  amongst  the  swaying 
vines,  hardly  distinguishable  from  them  save  for 
her  fair  ethereal  face,  looking  in  as  if  from  elf- 
land,  so  subtly  sweet  was  its  reminiscent  expres 
sion.  But  he  was  intent  of  attitude,  with  a  ques 
tion  in  his  waiting  eyes;  not  dallying  mentally 
with  the  thoughts  he  had  had  in  contemplation, 
but  altogether  receptive  to  a  new  theme. 

His  face  changed  subtly  as  Jane  Ann  Sims, 
watching  him  narrowly,  repeated  the  words  of  his 
somnolent  speech.  "What  air  ye  talkin'  'bout, 
John  Leonard,  whenst  ye  say  them  words  agin  an' 
agin  an'  agin,  night  arter  night?"  she  asked  him 
inquisitively. 

He  did  not  hesitate.  Still,  he  had  a  strange 
look  on  his  face,  as  if  summoned  many  and  many 
a  mile  thence.  "I  dream  that  I  am  dead,  some 
times,  and  others  need  me  back  again,  and  I  can 
not  go.  I  can  do  nothing.  I  often  dream  that  I 
am  dead." 


L'S<;  THE  JUGGLER. 

It  so  fell  out  the  next  day  that  this  seemed  no 
dream.  He  was  so  surely  dead  that  he  walked 
the  ways  of  this  world  an  alien.  He  was  not  more 
of  it  than  if  the  turf  in  the  far  cemetery,  beside 
the  marble  that  bore  his  name,  grew  green  and 
lush  with  its  first  summer  veritably  above  his 
breast.  He  had  no  premonition  of  the  deteriora 
tion  of  the  spurious  animation  which  had  of  late 
informed  the  days.  The  dawn  came  early,  as  was 
its  wont  in  these  slow  diurnal  measures  of  July, 
and  cheer  came  with  it.  The  explanation  he  had 
given  of  his  strange  words  was  more  than  satisfac 
tory,  and  all  about  him  was  instinct  with  a  sort 
of  radiant  pleasure  in  him  which  diffused  its  glow 
into  his  own  heart. 

As  he  stood  in  the  passage  lighting  his  pipe, 
after  breakfast,  he  noticed  a  salient  change  in  the 
landscape.  No  smoke  was  rising  from  the  high 
promontory  where  was  situated  the  primitive  kiln 
of  the  lime-burners. 

"Ye  jes'  fund  that  out?"  said  Tubal  Cain, 
with  a  chuckle,  as,  tilted  against  the  wall  in  his 
chair,  he  listlessly  dangled  his  feet.  "Thar  ain't 
been  no  lime  bu'nt  thar  fur  six  weeks."  Hie 
chuckled  anew,  so  cordially  did  he  accept  the  sen 
timental  cause  of  the  juggler's  lapse  of  observa 
tion.  "I  reckon  that  thar  lime  is  made  up  inter 
morter  an'  air  settin'  up  prideful  ez  plaister  now, 
an'  hev  done  furgot  it  ever  war  rock." 

The  young  man  placidly  (inland  the  raillery; 
in  fact  he  relished  it,  for  it  was  proof  how  genuine 


THE   JUGGLER.  287 

had  been  his  absorption,  and  he  was  deprecatory 
of  self-deception.  That  alert  commercial  interest 
never  quite  moribund  prompted  his  next  question. 

"I  don't  see  that  lime  is  used  in  the  Cove," 
he  said,  reflecting  on  the  stick-and-clay  chimneys, 
and  the  clay  daubing  in  the  chinking  between  the 
logs  of  the  walls  of  the  houses.  "  What  was  the 
purpose  of  that  extensive  burning  of  lime,  Mr. 
Sims?" 

"Ain't  you-uns  hearn?"  demanded  the  host, 
with  another  cheerful  grin  expanding  his  corru 
gated  leathern  -  textured  countenance.  "Pete 
Knowles  wouldn't  tell  a-fust;  he  got  the  job  some- 
hows." 

"Afraid  of  underbidding."  The  juggler  nodded 
comprehension  of  the  motive. 

"So  he  bu'nt,  an'  bu'nt,  an'  bu'nt,  an'  the 
lime  it  piled  up  in  heaps  in  that  thar  dry  rock- 
house  what  'minds  me  powerful  o'  the  sepulturs 
o'  the  Bible.  But  it  air  six  weeks  sence  they 
bar 'led  it  up  an'  wagoned  it  off  'bout  ten  mile 
or  mo'." 

"What  did  they  want  it  for,  and  who  are 
'  they  '?  "  inquired  Royce,  still  interested. 

"  '  They  '  is  them  hotel  men  over  yander  at  New 
Helveshy  Springs,  an'  they  wanted  the  lime  ter 
plaister  the  old  hotel  what  hev  hed  ter  be  repaired 
an'  nigh  made  over.  They  'lowed  't  war  cheaper 
ter  git  the  lime  bu'nt  at  the  nearest  limestun  rocks 
'n  ter  buy  it  bar 'led  an'  haul  it  fifty  mile  from  a 
railroad." 


288  THE  JUGGLER. 

This  was  a  proposition  of  a  kind  that  might  well 
secure  the  juggler's  business-like  consideration. 
But  his  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  sudden  untrans 
lated  thought.  His  pipe  had  turned  unheeded  in 
his  hand,  fire,  tobacco,  and  ashes  falling  from  it 
into  the  dewy  weeds  below  the  step,  as  he  stood  on 
the  verge  of  the  passage.  His  expressive  face 
had  altered.  It  was  smitten  with  some  prophetic 
thought,  and  had  grown  set  and  rigid. 

"New  Helvetia  Springs!  Summer  resort,  of 
course.  I  did  n't  know  there  was  anything  of  the 
sort  in  the  vicinity,"  he  said  at  last.  "What  kind 
of  place  is  it?" 

"I  dunno!"  exclaimed  Sims,  dangling  his  feet 
briskly  back  and  forth  in  an  accession  of  contempt. 
"/  never  tuk  the  trouble  ter  ride  over  thar  in  my 
life,  though  I  hev  knowed  the  hotel  ter  be  a-run- 
nin',  ez  they  call  it,  fur  forty  year  an'  more." 

Royce  stood  in  silence  for  a  time,  moodily  lean 
ing  his  shoulder  against  the  wall  of  the  house,  one 
hand  thrust  in  his  leather  belt,  the  other  holding 
the  pipe  at  an  angle  and  a  poise  which  would  seem 
to  precede  an  immediate  return  of  the  stem  to  his 
mouth.  But  he  did  not  smoke.  Presently  he  put 
the  pipe  into  his  pocket,  drew  his  hat  over  his 
eyes,  and  wandered  down  the  road;  then  climbing 
a  fence  or  two,  he  was  off  in  the  woods,  as  sale 
from  interruption  as  if  in  the  midst  of  a  trackless 
ocean.  He  walked  far  and  fast  with  the  constraint 
of  nervous  energy,  but  hardly  realizing  the  instinct 
of  flight  which  informed  his  muscles.  AVlu-n  at 


THE  JUGGLER.  289 

last  he  flung  himself  down  at  the  foot  of  great 
rocks  that  stood  high  above  a  shelving  slope  in 
woods  so  dense  that  he  could  not  see  farther  than 
a  yard  or  two  in  any  direction,  for  the  flutter  of 
the  multitudinous  leaves  and  the  shimmer  of  the 
interfulgent  sunshine,  he  was  saying  to  himself 
that  he  was  well  quit  of  all  the  associations  of  his 
old  world ;  that  he  had  found  safety  here,  a  mea 
sure  of  content,  a  means  of  livelihood,  and  the 
prospect  of  a  certain  degree  of  simple  happiness 
when  he  should  be  married  to  a  girl  whom  he  had 
learned  to  love  and  who  loved  him,  —  a  beautiful 
girl  of  innate  refinement,  who  had  mind  enough  to 
understand  .him  and  to  acquire  an  education.  He 
would  do  well  to  still  resolutely  that  sudden  plun 
ging  of  the  heart  which  had  beset  him  upon  the 
knowledge  that  his  old  world  was  so  near  at  hand, 
with  all  those  endearing  glamours  as  for  the  thing 
that  is  native.  What  avail  for  him  to  hover 
around  them,  to  court  the  fate  of  the  moth?  He 
remembered  with  a  sort  of  terror  the  pangs  of 
nostalgia  which  at  first  had  so  preyed  upon  him, 
and  should  he  deliberately  risk  the  renewal  of 
these  poignant  throes,  now  possibly  spent  forever? 
Regret,  danger,  despair,  lay  in  the  way  thither; 
why  should  he  long  to  look  in  upon  scenes  that 
were  now  as  reminiscences,  so  well  could  he  pre 
dicate  them  on  experiences  elsewhere?  He  won 
dered,  fretfully,  however,  and  with  a  rising  doubt 
of  himself,  that  when  he  and  Euphemia  had 
climbed  the  mountain  and  looked  down  at  the 


290  THE  JUGGLER. 

shimmer  of  the  small  towns  in  the  furthest  valley. 
and  he  had  felt  no  stir  of  wUttulne->,  In-  -h<>uld 
have  interpreted  his  tranquillity  as  a  willing  re 
nunciation  of  the  life  he  had  left, — as  if  the 
treadmill  limitations  and  deprivations  and  mental 
stagnation  of  a  village  were  the  life  he  had  left. 
And  suddenly  —  although  he  had  chosen  this  spot 
because  it  shut  him  in,  because  naught  could  be 
seen  to  deflect  his  errant  mind,  in  order  that  lie 
might  realize  and  earnestly  grapple  with  this  wild 
and  troublous  lure  —  the  illusions  of  a  sophistry 
glimmered  even  in  these  scant  spaces.  He  was 
definitely  reconciled,  he  told  himself,  to  his  de 
stiny.  It  was  only  his  imagination  that  vaguely 
yearned  for  the  status  he  had  left.  With  a  toueh 
of  reality  the  prismatic  charms  of  this  bubble  of 
fancy  would  collapse, — or  the  glimpse  of  condi 
tions  native  to  him,  the  sound  of  familiar  spwrh 
as  of  his  mother  tongue,  the  sight  of  men  and 
women  as  compatriots  in  this  long  exile  as  of  a 
foreign  land,  would  prove  a  refreshment,  a  tonic, 
an  elixir,  renewing  his  strength  to  endure.  He 
was  a  coward  to  deprive  himself  —  for  fear  of  dis 
content  —  of  something  to  enjoy  in  the  present,  to 
remember,  and  to  look  forward  to,  in  recurrent 
years. 

He  had  not  thought  to  notice  the  dwindling 
shadows  that  betokened  noon  and  the  waiting  din 
ner  which  Euphemia  hiul  made  ready  with  many 
a  remembrance  of  hi-  '-rices.  The  sun  was 

westering  apace  when,  as  if  impelled  by  a 


THE  JUGGLER.  291 

beyond  his  control,  he  found  himself  in  the  country 
road,  forging  ahead  with  that  long  swift  stride, 
the  envy  of  his  comrades  of  the  pedestrian  club  of 
his  urban  days.  His  heart  seemed  to  divine  the 
way,  for  he  scarcely  paused  to  debate  which  fork 
to  pursue  when  the  road  diverged;  he  gave  no 
heed  to  the  laurel  jungles  on  either  hand,  or, 
further  on,  to  the  shady  vistas  under  the  towering 
trees;  he  only  perceived  at  last  that  the  density 
of  the  woods  had  diminished.  Soon  peaked  and 
turreted  roofs  appeared  among  the  thinning  boughs, 
and  as  he  crossed  an  elaborately  rustic  foot-bridge, 
coquettishly  picturesque,  flung  across  a  chasm 
where  deep  in  the  brown  damp  shadows  a  silver 
rill  trickled,  he  recognized  this  as  an  outpost  of 
artificiality.  A  burst  of  music  from  a  band  thrilled 
his  unaccustomed  ears;  a  vast  panorama  of  purple 
and  azure  mountains,  a  vermilion  sun,  a  flaring 
amber  sky,  great  looming  gray  crags,  and  the 
bronze-green  sunlit  woods  beyond  were  asserted  in 
an  unfolding  landscape;  he  heard  the  laughter 
cadenced  to  express  the  tempered  mirth  of  polite 
society,  and  the  stir  of  talk.  The  verandas  of  the 
two-storied  hotel  were  full  of  well-dressed  people. 
His  swiftly  glancing  eye  marked  the  dowagers; 
their  very  costumes  were  familiar,  — black  grena 
dines  or  silks  with  a  subdued  inclination  toward 
a  touch  of  lavender  decoration,  and  some  expert 
softening  of  the  ravages  of  time  by  the  sparing 
use  of  white  chiffon  or  lace,  with  always  something 
choice  in  the  selection  of  dainty  shawls  on  the 


292  THE  JUGGLER. 

back  of  a  chair  near  at  hand  (how  often  had  he 
resignedly  borne  such  a  wrap  over  his  arm  in  the 
meek  train  of  a  pretty  girl's  chaperon!):  he  knew 
the  type,  —  clever,  discreet,  discerning.  On  the 
lawn  two  games  of  tennis  were  in  progress,  the 
white  of  the  flannel  suits  of  the  men  enhanced  in 
the  sun  against  the  green  grass.  Along  the  road 
beyond,  two  or  three  smart  little  carts  were  coming 
in  with  the  jauntiest  of  maidens  in  daintily  tinted 
summer  attire  and  sailor  hats.  An  ec|iir-trian 
couple  —  the  young  man  of  a  splendid  physique 
and  elegantly  mounted  —  went  by  him  like  a  flash, 
as  he  stood,  dazed  and  staring,  by  the  rail  of  the 
bridge.  He  retained  barely  enough  presence  of 
mind  to  dodge  aside  out  of  the  way,  and  he  re 
ceived  a  volley  of  sand,  covering  him  from  head  to 
foot,  from  the  heels  of  the  horses  as  they  disap 
peared  in  the  woods  at  the  steady  hand-gallop. 
On  the  crag  at  the  verge  of  the  bluff  were  groups 
of  young  people,  strolling  about  or  seated  on  the 
ledges  of  the  cliff,  the  young  men  dangling  their 
feet  over  the  abysses  beneath,  such  being  the  ac 
cepted  fat! ;  now  and  then,  one  not  emerged  from 
the  hobbledehoy  chrysalis  would,  by  means  of 
grotesque  affectations  of  falling,  elicit  small  com 
plimentary  shrieks,  half  terror,  half  mirth,  from 
the  extremely  young  ladies  whom  he  favored  with 
his  improving  society.  At  one  side  there  was  a 
meeting  of  fir  boughs,  a  dank  and  cool  dark  vista, 
a  great  piling  of  fractured  and  •.j.linti-red  rocks,  a 
sudden  descent,  and  down  this  bosky  way  was  so 


THE  JUGGLER.  293 

constant  a  going  and  coming  that  Lucien  Royce 
divined  that  it  led  to  the  hidden  spring. 

He  stared  at  the  scene  through  the  tears  in  his 
eyes.  To  him  who  had  never  had  a  home  it  was 
home,  who  had  never  dreamed  of  heaven  it  was 
bliss.  He  would  have  given  all  he  could  imagine 
—  but,  poor  fellow,  he  had  naught  to  give !  —  to 
be  able  to  communicate  in  some  mysterious  way 
the  knowledge  of  his  quality  to  one  of  those  high- 
nosed,  keen-eyed  elder  women,  of  composed  fea 
tures  and  fine  position  and  long  social  experience 
and  much  discrimination  in  the  world's  ways,  and 
to  have  her  commend  his  course,  and  counsel 
prudence,  and  pity  his  plight.  He  looked  at  the 
elder  men,  whose  type  he  also  knew,  —  men  of 
weight  in  the  business  world,  lawyers,  bankers, 
brokers,  —  and  he  thought  what  a  boon  might  be 
even  the  slightest  impersonal  conversation  with 
one  of  his  own  sphere,  his  equal  in  breeding,  in 
culture,  in  social  standing.  He  was  starved,  —  he 
had  not  realized  it ;  he  was  dying  of  mental  inani 
tion  ;  he  was  starved. 

The  next  moment,  two  of  the  tennis-players, 
ending  the  diversions  of  the  afternoon  with  a 
walk,  approached  the  bridge :  the  man  in  his  im 
maculate  white  "flannels,  his  racket  carried  over 
his  shoulder;  the  girl  in  her  picturesque  tennis 
toggery.  Royce,  dusty,  besprinkled  with  sand, 
conscious  of  his  coarse  ill-made  jeans  clothes  and 
his  great  cowhide  boots,  colored  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair  as  their  eyes  fell  upon  him.  In  adaptation  to 


294  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  custom  of  the  mountaineers,  who  never  fail  to 
speak  to  a  stranger  in  passing,  they  both  murmured 
a  "Good -even ing"  as  they  went  by.  Royce.  rous 
ing  with  a  galvanic  start,  lifted  his  hat,  hardly 
realizing  why  they  should  glance  at  him  in  obvious 
surprise  and  with  elevated  eyebrows.  For  one 
moment  he  pondered  fruitlessly  on  the  significance 
of  this  trifling  incident.  The  solution  of  the  mys 
tery  came  to  him  with  a  monition  of  added  cau 
tion.  The  social  training  of  the  mountaineer  does 
not  comprise  the  ceremony  of  lifting  the  hat  in 
salutation.  If  he  would  sustain  the  rural  character 
he  must  needs  have  heed,  since  so  slight  a  deflec 
tion  was  marked.  He  heard  them  laughing  as  they 
went,  and  he  thought,  with  all  the  sensitiveness  in 
cident  to  a  false  position,  that  he  was  the  cause  of 
their  mirth,  the  incongruity  of  this  "  million  of 
manners"  with  such  a  subject.  With  an  aversion 
to  a  repetition  of  this  scene  he  betook  himself  out 
of  the  way  of  further  excursionists,  noticing  that 
several  couples  were  slowly  strolling  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  bridge.  But  as  he  moved  forward 
from  under  the  shadows  of  the  fir  and  into  the 
clear  space  of  the  lawn,  he  could  scarcely  sustain 
the  observation  which  he  felt  leveled  at  him,  Ar- 
gus-ey»'d,  from  the  veramlas.  the  lawn,  the  tennis- 
court,  the  crags.  His  pride  was  in  arms  against 
his  humble  plight.  His  face  burned  with  shame 
for  his  coarse  garments,  the  dust,  the  very  •  •luni>5- 
ness  of  his  rough  boots,  the  length  of  his  over 
grown  silky  red-brown  hair,  his  great  awkward 


THE  JUGGLER,  295 

hat,  the  uncouth  figure  he  cut  in  respectable  so 
ciety.  But  despite  the  flush  on  his  cheek,  and  a 
thrill  hot  and  tingling  ever  starting  with  each 
searing  thought  to  his  eyes,  as  if  tears  were  to  be 
shed  but  for  the  sheer  shame  of  it,  he  laughed 
scornfully  at  his  pride,  and  despised  himself  to  be 
so  poor,  so  forlorn,  so  outcast  from  his  native 
world,  yet  so  yearning  for  it.  "What  does  it 
matter?"  he  said  to  himself.  "They  don't  know 
me.  Lucien  Royce  is  dead,  — dead  forever."  He 
walked  on  for  a  few  minutes,  the  trained  gait  of 
an  athlete,  his  graceful  bearing,  the  individuality 
and  distinction  of  his  manner,  all  at  their  best, 
mechanically  asserted  as  an  unrealized  protest  in 
some  sort  that  those  lorgnettes  on  the  verandas 
should  not  conceive  too  meanly  of  him.  "I  sup 
pose  I  thought  the  ghost  of  a  dude  like  Lucien 
Royce  would  be  a  mighty  well-set-up  affair,  with 
a  sort  of  spectral  style  about  him  and  an  unearthly 
chic.  But  what  does  it  matter  what  they  think 
of  a  nonentity  of  a  stray  mountaineer  like  this? 
Lucien  Royce  is  dead,  — dead  forever!  " 

He  had  merely  ventured  to  partially  skirt  the 
lawn,  bending  his  steps  toward  the  shelter  of  a 
small  two-storied  building  at  the  nearest  corner  of 
it,  and  somewhat  down  the  road.  The  lower  por 
tion  of  this  structure,  he  perceived,  was  used  as  a 
store,  containing  a  few  dry  goods,  but  dispensing 
chiefly  needles  and  pins,  especially  hairpins,  and 
such  other  commodities  of  toilet  as  the  guests 
might  have  forgotten  or  exhausted  o»  could  be 


296  THE   .irt;i;i.KR. 

induced  to  buy.  He  paused  in  the  doorway:  even 
the  sight  of  the  limited  stock  ranged  decorously  on 
the  shelves,  the  orderly  counters,  the  smooth  coun 
tenance  of  the  salesman,  seemed  pleasing  to  him. 
as  reminiscent  of  the  privileges  of  civilization. 

"Can  we  do  anything  for  you,  sir?"  asked  the 
clerk  suavely. 

Royce  caught  himself  with  a  start.  Then  speak 
ing  with  his  teeth  half  closed  to  disguise  his  voice, 
and  drawling  like  a  mountaineer,  he  said,  shaking 
his  head,'"Jes'  viewin'  the  folks  some." 

He  had  a  sense  that  the  imitation  was  ill  done, 
and  glanced  furtively  at  the  face  of  the  man 
behind  the  counter.  But  the  clerk  was  devoid 
of  speculation  save  as  this  faculty  might  explore 
his  customers'  pockets.  Royce  noted,  however,  a 
second  warning,  and  since  the  sun  was  down  and 
the  lawn  now  depopulated,  save  for  here  and  then 
a  hastening  figure  making  for  the  deserted  veran 
das,  he  ventured  out  in  his  shabby  gear  ujxm  the 
plank  walk  that  stretched  along  the  bluff  where  no 
crags  intervened,  but  the  descent  was  sheer  to  a 
green  and  woodsy  slope  l>elow.  The  early  tea  was 
in  progress ;  the  band  that  for  some  time  had  been 
heralding  its  service,  playing  within  the  quad 
rangle,  was  silent  now,  and  the  shadows  were 
abroad  in  the  mountains;  mists  were  rising  from 
dank  ravines  on  the  opposite  range.  A  star  was 
in  the  flushed  sky.  A  whippooi -will's  plaintive 
tones  came  once  and  again  from  the  umbrageous 
tangles  tlfet  overshadowed  the  spring.  Yellow 


THE  JUGGLER.  297 

lamps  were  flaring  out  into  the  purple  dusk  from 
the  great  looming  unsubstantial  building.  He 
marked  the  springing  into  sudden  brilliancy  of  a 
row  of  windows  on  the  ground  floor,  that  revealed 
a  long,  bare,  empty  apartment  which  he  identified 
as  the  ballroom.  There  would  be  dancing  later 
on.  A  cheerful  clicking  as  of  ivory  against  ivory 
caused  him  to  pause  abruptly  and  peer  down  the 
slope  below,  where  a  yellow  radiance  was  aglow 
amongst  the  trees  and  precipitous  descents.  It 
came  from  the  billiard-room  in  the  pavilion,  pic 
turesquely  poised  here  among  the  rocks  and  chasms, 
and  looking  out  into  a  wild  gorge  that  gave  a 
twilight  view  of  the  darkening  valley,  and  the 
purple  glooms  of  the  mountains  towering  along  the 
horizon.  It  was  the  airiest  type  of  structure. 
With  only  its  peaked  roof  and  its  supporting  tim 
bers,  the  floor  and  the  flights  of  steps,  it  seemed 
free  to  the  breeze,  so  wide  and  long  were  the 
windows,  all  broadly  open.  Royce,  looking  down 
into  its  illuminated  interior,  glowing  like  a  topaz 
in  the  midst  of  the  dark  foliage  that  pressed  close 
about  it,  had  a  glimpse  of  the  green  cloth  of  the 
tables,  the  red  and  white  balls,  the  dexterously 
poised  cues,  the  alertly  attitudinizing  figures,  — 
still  loitering  in  white  flannels,  although  the  lights 
now  agleam  in  bedroom  windows  told  that  all  the 
world  had  begun  to  dress  for  the  ball,  —  and  heard 
the  pleasant,  mirthful  voices. 

Why  did  he  linger  here,  he  asked  himself,  as 
he  repressed  the  natural  mundane  interest  which 


298  THE  Jl'GULER. 

almost  spoke  out  his  criticism  a>  lit-  watched  the 
game  with  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur.  This  was  not 
for  him.  He  was  not  of  this  world.  He  had 
quitted  it  forever.  And  if  he  were  mortified  to 
fill  a  place  in  a  sphere  so  infinitely  r»Min»\«  «1  from 
that  to  which  he  was  born  and  entitled,  would  it 
better  matters  to  emerge  from  his  decent  ob-em-ity 
and  his  promised  opportunities,  his  honest  repute 
and  his  simple  happiness,  to  the  conspicuous  posi 
tion  as  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  in  a  criminal  trial, 
and  to  the  permanent  seclusion  of  a  felon  -  . .  11  ' 
For  that  was  what  he  risked  in  these  hankerings 
after  the  status  and  the  sphere  from  which  he  was 
cast  out  forever. 

He  was  in  the  darkening  road  and  plodding 
homeward  before  this  admonition  to  his  own  rebel 
lious  heart  was  concluded,  so  did  the  terrors  of  that 
possible  ignominious  fate  dominate  his  pride,  and 
scorch  his  sensibility,  and  lay  his  honeM  -t  li-i,  - 
spect  in  the  dust.  He  was  tired.  The  drops  stood 
on  his  forehead  and  his  step  lagged.  Thrice  the 
distance  in  the  time  he  had  walked  it  would  not 
have  so  reduced  his  strength  as  did  the  mental 
perturbation,  the  inward  questionings,  those  tu 
multuous  plungings  of  his  strong  young  heart. 
He  was  pale,  and  his  face  was  lined  and  bore  some 
vague  impress  of  the  nervous  stress  he  had  sus 
tained,  when  at  last  he  came  up  the  steps  of  the 
open  passage  at  Sims's  house,  and  Jane  Ann  bent 
her  anxious  flabby  countenance  toward  him. 

"Waal,  before  the  Lawd!  "  she  exclaimed,  hold- 


THE   JUGGLER.  299 

ing  the  tallow  dip  in  her  hand  so  as  to  throw  its 
light  full  upon  him,  —  and  he  divined  that  at  fre 
quent  intervals  in  the  last  two  hours  she  had 
emerged  thus  with  the  candle  in  her  hand  to  listen 
for  his  step,  —  "  hyar  the  chile  be  at  last !  Whar 
in  the  name  o'  sense  hev  ye  been,  John  Leon 
ard?"  she  demanded,  as  Phemie  fluttered  out, 
pale  and  wistful  despite  her  embarrassed  laughter 
at  the  folly  of  their  fright,  and  old  Tubal  Cain 
followed  stiffly,  with  sundry  grooves  of  anxiety 
added  to  the  normal  corrugations  of  his  face. 

"In  the  woods,"  replied  the  juggler;  and  then 
realizing  that  he  spoke  with  a  covert  meaning,  "I 
lost  my  way." 

He  slept  the  sleep  of  exhaustion  that  night,  and 
the  next  morning  he  rose  refreshed  in  body,  and 
with  the  resolutions  of  his  sober  reflections  con 
firmed. 

"I  am  not  such  a  snob  as  to  care  for  the  mere 
finery  of  existence,  the  mere  wealth  and  show  and 
fashion,"  he  argued  within  himself.  "It 's  partly 
the  folly  of  my  youth  to  care  so  much  for  those 
young  fools  over  yonder,  —  so  much  like  myself, 
or  like  what  I  used  to  be,  —  and  dancing,  and 
tennis,  and  wheeling,  and  flirting,  and  frivolity. 
A  certain  portion  of  these  amenities  has  been  the 
furniture  of  my  life  hitherto,  and  I  am  a  trifle 
awkward  at  laying  hold  on  it  now  without  them. 
I  love  the  evidences  of  good  breeding,  because  I 
have  been  taught  to  respect  them.  I  am  preju 
diced  in  favor  of  certain  personal  refinements, 


."(I  Tirt  JL'GVLER. 

because  I  was  reared  to  think  a  breach  of  them  as 
iniquitous  as  to  crash  all  the  ten  coiuiuaiitliiiciits 
at  one  fell  swoop.  I  revere  culture  and  literary 
or  scientific  achievement,  because  I  appreciate 
what  they  require  in  mental  caj>acity,  and  I  am 
educated  to  gauge  in  a  degree  the  quality  of  their 
excellence.  I  should  like  to  have  some  conversa 
tion,  occasionally,  with  people  near  my  own  calibre 
in  social  status  and  mind,  and  with  similar  motives 
and  sentiments  and  way  of  looking  at  things.  But 
I  can  live  without  a  ballroom  and  a  billiard-table, 
and,  by  the  Lord,  I  '11  brace  up  like  a  man  and  do 
it  contentedly." 

He  went  off  cheerfully  enough,  after  breakfast, 
to  meet  Tynes  in  the  little  schoolhouse.  There 
he  recited,  in  forgetfulness  of  his  troubles,  poems 
that  he  loved,  and  bits  of  ornate  prose  that  he 
recalled,  for  he  had  a  good  memory ;  and  he  deliv 
ered  sundry  sound  dicta  touching  the  correct 
method  of  opening  the  mouth  and  of  the  pose  of 
the  body,  and  a  dissertation  on  the  physical  struc- 
ture  of  the  vocal  organs,  illustrated  by  diagrams 
which  he  drew  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the  reading-liook, 
and  which  mightily  astonished  Absalom  Tynes, 
who  learned  for  the  first  time  that  such  things  be. 
The  leaves  of  the  low-swinging  elms  rustled  at  the 
windows;  the  breeze  came  in  and  stirred  up  the 
dust;  the  flying  squirrel  who  nested  in  the  king 
post  of  the  roof,  and  who  had  had  an  early  view 
of  the  juggler  upon  his  first  appearance  in  this 
house,  came  down  and  sat  upon  a  beam  and  with 


THE  JUGGLER.  301 

intent  eyes  gazed  at  him.  Tynes,  in  an  unaccus 
tomed  station  among  the  benches  used  by  the  con 
gregation,  watched  and  listened  with  unqualified 
commendation  as  Royce  stood  upon  the  platform 
and  made  the  little  house  ring  with  his  strong, 
melodious  young  voice.  Abdicating  the  vantage- 
ground  of  spiritual  preeminence,  Tynes  subordi 
nated  his  own  views,  and  when  he  read  in  his  turn 
sundry  of  the  secular  bits  of  verse  embalmed  in 
the  Reader  —  he  seemed  to  think  there  were  no 
books  in  the  world  but  school-books  and  the  Bible 
—  he  accepted  corrections  with  the  mildest  docil 
ity,  and  preserved  a  slavish  imitation  of  the  spir 
ited  delivery  of  his  preceptor.  He  rose  into  vig 
orous  rebellion,  however,  when,  with  many  a 
"Pshaw!"  Royce  rejected  the  continued  use  of 
the  elementary  Reader  for  the  vital  defect  of  hav 
ing  nothing  in  it  fit  to  read,  and  took  up,  as  mat 
ter  worthy  of  elocutionary  art,  the  Bible.  Tynes, 
struck  aghast  by  the  change  of  delivery,  the  rever 
ent,  repressed,  almost  overawed  tones,  the  deep, 
still  gravity  of  the  manner,  listened  for  a  time, 
then  openly  protested. 

"That  ain't  no  way  ter  read  the  Bible,"  he 
stoutly  averred.  "Ye  hev  got  ter  thunder  it  at 
the  sinner,  an'  rest  yer  v'ice  on  this  word  an'  lay 
it  down  on  that,  an'  lift  it  up  " 

"Ding-dong  it,  you  mean,"  said  the  juggler, 
shifting  quickly  to  his  habitual  tone. 

"The  sinner  ain't  ter  be  kep'  listenin'  ter  sech 
ez  that.  Jes'  let  yer  v'ice  beat  agin  his  ear  till  he 


302  THE  JUGGLER. 

can't  keep  the  gospel  out  'thout  he  IK-  cWf."  T\  m-s 
contended. 

44  Yes,  and  his  senses  accommodate  themselves 
to  the  clamor,  and  his  consciousness  sways  back 
and  forth  with  the  minister's  voice,  and  he  doesn't 
hear  more  than  one  half  of  what  is  said,  because 
tlu>  fellow  yells  so  loud  that  the  sound  drowns  out 
the  sense.  But  the  congregation  looks  pious,  and 
folds  its  arms,  and  rocks  itself  back  and  forth  \\\\\\ 
the  rhythm  of  the  sing-song,  and  the  whole  thing 
is  just  one  see-saw.  Do  you  believe  that's  the 
way  St.  Paul  preached  on  Mars'  hill'  " 

Tynes  was  suddenly  bewildered.  His  manner 
assumed  a  sort  of  bridling  offense;  it  seemed  -.unr- 
what  profane  to  speculate  on  the  character  of  St. 
Paul's  delivery. 

"Your  way  ain't  the  way  the  men  read  at  the 
Colbury  revival,  ennyhow,"  he  urged;  for  the  union 
meeting,  despite  his  wounded  pride,  had  become 
a  sort  of  standard. 

"I  '11  bet  my  old  hat  there  was  n't  anybody  there 
who  could  come  within  a  mile  of  my  reading," 
glibly  wagered  the  juggler,  unabashed. 

Tynes  reflected  doubtfully  a  moment.  "I  dunno 
trAaJ's  the  matter  with  it,"  he  said.  "It  hurts 
me!  I  couldn't  git  my  cornsent  ter  read  that-a- 
way.  It  sounds  like  ye  jes'  been  thar  yestiddy, 
an'  it  all  happened  fraish,  an'  ye  war  tellin'  'bout 
it,  an'  ye  bed  n't  got  over  tin-  pain  an'  the  grief  of 
it  yit  —  an'  mebbe  ye  never  would." 

In  the  pause  that  ensued  tin-  jn^lrr  tririYd  with 


THE   JUGGLER.  303 

the  pages,  his  eyes  cast  down,  a  smile  of  gratified 
vanity  lurking  in  the  lustrous  pupils. 

"Well,"  Tynes  said  abruptly,  "go  on,  John 
Leonard,  go  on." 

But  as  the  reading  proceeded,  the  face  of  the 
slight  and  pallid  man  sitting  on  the  bench  —  now 
and  again  wincing  palpably  from  the  scenes  seem 
ingly  enacted  before  him,  from  the  old,  old  words 
all  instinct  with  the  present,  from  the  terrible 
sense  of  the  reality  of  those  dread  happenings  of 
the  last  night  in  Gethsemane,  and  the  denial  of 
Peter,  and  the  judgment-hall  —  all  at  once  lighted 
up  with  a  new  and  vivid  gleam  of  animation. 
The  chapter  was  at  an  end,  the  lingering  musical 
cadences  of  the  reverent  voice  were  dying  away, 
and  as  the  reader  lifted  his  head  there  were  tears 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  fisher  of  men  had  seen  them. 

"Ye  ain't  so  far  from  the  kingdom,  John  Leon 
ard,"  he  said,  in  solemn  triumph. 

The  juggler  recoiled  in  a  sort  of  ashamed  self- 
consciousness.  "Don't  deceive  yourself !"  he  ex 
claimed.  "It  is  only  my  literary  sensibility.  All 
the  four  Gospels  —  speaking  profanely  —  are  works 
of  high  artistic  merit,  and  they  can  floor  me  when 
nothing  else  can." 

But  the  worldly  ambition  of  Tynes  had  suddenly 
fled.  He  was  baiting  his  hook  and  reeling  out  his 
line;  here  was  the  prospect  of  a  precious  capture 
in  the  cause  of  religion.  He  might  not  learn  to 
read  the  Bible  in  John  Leonard's  illusive  and  soul- 
compelling  way,  —  and  he  hardly  knew  if  he  cared 


304  THE  JUGGLKR. 

to  do  this,  so  did  it  seem  to  penetrate  into  tlio 
very  mystery  of  sacred  things  which  had  !•-*  )...i-- 
naucv  uinlt-r  tin-  veil  of  custom  and  in.litV.-rence 
and  a  dull  sense  of  distance  in  time  and  place,  — 
but  he  would  learn  of  him  in  secular  tiling.  h«- 
would  remain  by  him,  and  now  and  again  insidi 
ously  instill  sunn-  s»-i  Unions  n-sjnnisiliilit\  : 
and  tlie  soul  of  tin*  sinner  would  indeed  be  a  slip 
pery  fish  if  it  could  contrive  to  elude  his  vigilance 
at  last. 

He  listened  indulgently  as  the  juggler  declared 
he  would  have  no  more  of  the  Reader,  insisting 
that  such  literature  would  wreck  his  mind.  But 
Tynes,  for  his  own  part,  was  not  willing  to  trust 
himself  to  learn  the  arts  of  elocution  from  the 
sanctities  of  the  Holy  Book  read  with  that  imme 
diate  and  vital  certainty  which  tore  so  at  his  heart- 
string!. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  his  narrow,  pallid  face 
brightening  with  the  inspiration, —  "I  wonder  ef 
thar  ain't  some  o'  them  books  ye  speak  of  over 
yander  ter  the  sto'  what  that  valley  man  keeps  at 
New  Helveshy  Springs?  They  all  hem*  valley 
folks,  mebbe  he  hev  some  valley  books  ter  sell  ter 
'em." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it!"  cried  the  juggler  in 
delighted  anticipation.  He  looked  down  for  a 
moment,  dubious  of  the  wisdom  of  the  course  he 
had  in  contemplation,  but  with  a  quick  joy  beating 
at  his  heart.  It  was  but  natural,  he  argued  within 
himself,  n-.-o^ni/ing  the  access  of  pleasure,  that. 


THE  JUGGLER.  305 

young  and  debarred  as  he  was  from  the  society  of 
his  equals,  he  should  experience  a  satisfaction  in 
these  fleeting  glimpses  of  life  as  he  had  once  known 
it,  and  in  its  attraction  for  him  was  no  harbinger 
of  regret  and  rue.  Moreover,  he  judged  that  it 
would  excite  less  attention  for  him  to  buy  the  book 
in  person  —  he  would  make  it  appear  that  he  was 
on  an  errand  for  some  cottager  of  the  summer 
sojourners  —  than  if  this  ignorant  parson  should 
overhaul  the  literature  of  the  Springs,  with  some 
wild  tale  of  lessons  from  an  elocutionary  mountain 
eer.  As  to  danger,  he  would  hold  his  tongue  as 
far  as  he  might,  and  he  deemed  that  he  looked  the 
veriest  mountain  rustic  in  the  garb  he  so  despised. 
"Rather  a  jaunty  rural  rooster,  perhaps,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "but  as  rural  as  a  cornfield." 


XI. 

ROTCE  waited  over  one  day  after  this  agreement 
with  Tynes,  and  marked  with  satisfaction  how 
thoroughly  his  will  was  subject  to  his  own  control. 
He  hid  1MB  New  Helvetia  once.  There  was  nat 
urally  a  certain  mundane  curiosity  on  his  part  to 
be  satisfied.  Doubtless,  after  another  excursion 
or  so  thither,  it  would  all  pall  u]x>n  him  and  he 
would  be  more  content,  since  there  was  no  dream 
of  unattainable  enchantments  at  hand  upon  which 
he  dared  not  look. 

The  place  ww  angularly  cheerful  of  aspect  in 
its  matutinal  guise.  The  slanting  morning  sun 
shine  struck  through  the  foliage  of  the  great  oaks 
and  dense  shrubs;  but  there  was  intervenient 
shadow  here,  too,  dank,  grateful  to  the  senses,  for 
the  day  already  betokened  the  mounting  mercury. 
Across  the  valley  the  amethystine  mountains  shim 
mered  through  the  heated  air;  ever  and  anon 
darkly  purple  simulacra  of  clouds  went  fleeing 
along  their  vast  sunlit  slopes  beneath  the  dazzling 
white  masses  in  the  azure  sky.  In  a  ravine,  a 
tiny  space  of  blue-green  tint  amongst  the  strong 
full-fleshed  dark  verdure  of  the  forests  of  July 
bespoke  a  cornfield,  and  through  a  field-glass 
might  be  descried  the  little  log  cal'iu  with  its  deli- 


THE  JUGGLER.  307 

cate  tendril  of  smoke,  the  home  of  the  mountaineer 
who  tilled  the  soil.  Of  more  distinct  value  in  the 
landscape  was  the  yellow  of  the  harvested  wheat- 
fields  in  the  nearer  reaches  of  the  Valley,  where 
the  bare  spaces  revealed  the  stage-road  here  and 
there  as  it  climbed  the  summits  of  red  clay  hills. 

There  was  no  sound  of  music  on  the  air,  the 
band  being  off  duty  for  the  nonce.  Even  that 
instrument  of  torture,  the  hotel  piano,  was  silent. 
The  wind  played  through  the  meshes  of  the  de 
serted  tennis-nets,  and  no  clamor  of  rolling  balls 
thundered  from  the  tenpin-alley,  the  low  long  roof 
of  which  glimmered  in  the  sunshine,  down  among 
the  laurel  on  the  slope  toward  the  gorge.  The 
whole  life  of  the  place  was  focused  upon  the  ve 
randa.  Royce's  reminiscent  eye,  gazing  upon  it 
all  as  a  fragment  of  the  past  as  well  as  an  evidence 
of  the  present,  discerned  that  some  crisis  of  mo 
ment  impended  in  the  continual  conjugation  of  the 
verb  s'amuser.  The  usual  laborious  idleness  of 
fancy-work  would  hardly  account  for  the  una 
nimity  with  which  feminine  heads  were  bent  above 
needles  and  threads  and  various  sheer  fabrics,  or 
for  the  interest  with  which  the  New  Helvetia, 
youths  watched  the  proceedings  and  self -sufficiently 
proffered  advice,  despite  the  ebullitions  of  laughter, 
scornful  and  superior,  with  which  their  sage  coun 
sel  was  invariably  received.  There  was  now  and 
again  an  exclamation  of  triumph  as  a  pair  of  con 
ventionalized  wings  were  held  aloft,  completed, 
fashioned  of  gauze  and  wire  and  profusely  span- 


308  THK   JTGdJ i 

gled  with  silver.  He  caught  a  sudden  flash  of 
tinsel,  and  noted  the  special  demonstrations  of 
congratulation  and  great  glee  whirh  rnsin-d  \\h«n 
one  of  the  old  ladirs.  fluttered  with  the  anxiety  of 
the  inventor,  successfully  fitted  a  silver  crown  u]«>n 
the  golden  locks  of  a  poetic-faced  young  girl, 
:i  vny  Titania.  The  jocose  hobbledehoy  whom 
Royce  hat!  noted  on  the  occasion  of  his  previous 
excursion  sat  upon  a  step  of  the  long  flight  leading 
from  the  veranda  to  the  lawn,  surrounded  by  h:ilf 
a  dozen  little  maidens,  and,  armed  with  a  nc«ilr 
and  a  long  thread,  affected  to  sew  industriously, 
rewarded  by  their  shrieking  exclamations  of  de 
light  in  his  funniness  every  time  he  grotesquely 
drew  out  the  needle  with  a  great  curve  of  his  long 
arm,  or  facetiously  but  futilely  undertook  to  bite 
the  thread. 

With  zealous  gallantry  sundry  of  the  young  men 
plied  back  and  forth  between  the  groups  on  the 
veranda  to  facilitate  the  exchange  of  silks  and 
scissors,  and  occasionally  trotted  on  similar  er 
rands.  Im-iufsslike  and  In  isk.  down  the  plank  walk 
to  the  store.  Sometimes  they  asked  here  for  the 
r  wrong  thing.  Sometimes  they  forgot  utterly  what 
they  were  to  ask  for,  and  a  return  trip  was  in 
order.  Sometimes  they  demanded  some  article  a 
stranger  to  invention,  unheard  of  on  sea  or  shore. 
Thus  cruelly  was  their  ignorance  of  fabric  played 
upon  by  tin-  ungrateful  and  freakish  fair,  and  the 
littlr  stoiv  rant;  with  laujjhtrr  at  tin-  discomfiture 
of  the  young  Mercury  so  humbly  bearing  the  met 


THE  JUGGLER.  309 

sages  of  the  deities  on  the  veranda;  for  the  store 
was  crowded,  too,  chiefly  with  ladies  in  the  fresh 
est  of  morning  costumes,  and  Royce,  as  he  paused 
at  the  door,  realized  that  this  was  no  time  to  claim 
the  attention  of  the  smooth-faced  clerk.  That 
functionary  was  as  happy  as  a  salesman  ever  gets 
to  be.  There  was  not  a  yard  of  any  material  or 
an  article  in  his  stock  that  did  not  stand  a  fair 
chance  of  immediate  purchase  as.  wearing  apparel 
or  stage  properties.  Tableaux,  and  a  ball  after 
ward  in  the  dress  of  one  of  the  final  pictures,  were 
in  immediate  contemplation,  as  Royce  gathered 
from  the  talk.  This  was  evidently  an  undertaking 
requiring  some  nerve  on  the  part  of  its  projectors, 
in  so  remote  a  place,  where  no  opportunities  of 
fancy  costumes  were  attainable  save  what  invention 
might  contrive  out  of  the  resources  of  a  modern 
summer  wardrobe  and  the  haphazard  collections  of 
a  watering-place  store.  Perhaps  this  added  ele 
ment  of  jeopardy  and  doubt  and  discovery  and  the 
triumphs  of  ingenuity  heightened  the  zest  of  an 
amusement  which  with  all  necessary  appliances 
might  have  been  vapid  indeed. 

Royce  could  not  even  read  the  titles  of  the  books 
on  the  shelf  at  this  distance,  above  the  heads  of 
the  press,  and  he  turned  away  to  await  a  more 
convenient  season,  realizing  that  he  had  attracted 
naught  but  most  casual  notice,  and  feeling  at  ease 
to  perceive,  from  one  or  two  specimens  to-day 
about  the  place,  that  mountaineers  from  the  im 
mediate  vicinity  were  no  rarity  at  New  Helvetia; 


310  Tilt:  jn;t;i.KR. 

their  errands  to  sell  fruit  to  the  guests  or  vegeta 
bles  or  venison  to  the  hotel  l>«-in-  doubtless  often 
supplemented  by  a  trifle  of  loitering  to  murk  the 
developments  of  a  life  so  foreign  to  their  expe 
rience.  As  he  strolled  along  the  plank  walk,  his 
superseiisit  i  \e  .  -.  msciousness  was  somewhat  assuaged 
as  by  a  sense  of  invisibility.  Every  one  was  too 
much  absorbed  to  notiee  him,  and  he  in  his  true 
self  supported  no  responsibility,  since  poor  Lucien 
Royce  was  dead,  and  John  Leonard  was  merely  a 
stray  mountaineer,  looking  on  wide-eyed  at  the 
doings  of  the  grand  folk. 

From  that  portion  of  the  building  which  he  had 
learned  contained  the  ballroom  he  heard  the  clat 
ter  of  hammer  and  nails.  The  stage  was  probably 
in  course  of  erection,  and,  idly  following  the  sound 
along  a  low  deserted  piazza  toward  one  of  the 
wings,  he  stood  at  length  in  the  doorway.  He 
gazed  in  listlessly  at  the  group  of  carpenters  work 
ing  at  the  staging,  the  frame  being  already  up. 
A  blond  young  man,  in  white  flannel  trousers  and 
a  pink-and-white->tri|»ed  blazer,  was  descanting 
with  knowingness  and  much  easy  confidence  of 
manner  upon  the  way  in  which  the  curtain  should 
draw,  while  the  proprietor,  grave,  saturnine,  with 
a  leaning  toward  simplicity  of  contrivance  and 
economy  in  execution,  listened  in  noncommittal 
silence.  The  wind  blew  soft  and  free  through  tin- 
opposite  windows.  Royce  looked  critically  at  the 
floor  of  the  ballroom.  It  was  a  good  floor,  a  very 
good  floor.  Finally  he  turned,  with  only  a  gentle 


THE   JUGGLER.  311 

melancholy  in  his  forced  renunciation  of  youthful 
amusements,  with  the  kind  of  sentiment,  the  sense 
of  far  remove,  which  might  animate  the  ghost  of 
one  untimely  snatched  away,  now  vaguely  awaiting 
its  ultimate  fate.  He  continued  to  stroll  along, 
entering  presently  the  quadrangle,  and  noting  here 
the  grass  and  the  trees  and  the  broad  walks;  the 
romping  children  about  the  band-stand  in  the 
centre,  dainty  and  fresh  of  costume  and  shrill  of 
voice;  the  chatting  groups  of  old  colored  nurses 
who  supervised  their  play.  One  was  pushing  a 
perambulator,  in  which  a  precocious  infant,  totally 
ignoring  passing  adults,  after  the  manner  of  his 
kind,  fixed  an  eager,  intent,  curious  gaze  upon  an 
other  infant  in  arms,  who  so  returned  this  interested 
scrutiny  that  his  soft  neck,  as  he  twisted  it  over  the 
shoulder  of  his  nurse,  was  in  danger  of  dislocation. 

"Tu'n  roun'  yere,  chile!"  she  admonished  him 
as  if  he  were  capable  of  understanding,  while  she 
shifted  him  about  in  her  arms  to  cut  off  the  vision 
of  the  object  of  interest.  "Twis'  off  yer  hade 
lak  some  ole  owel,  fus'  t'ing  ye  know;  owel  tu'n 
his  hade  ef  ye  circle  roun'  him,  an'  tu'n  an'  tu'n 
till  his  ole  fool  hade  drap  off.  Did  n'  ye  know 
dat,  honey?  Set  disher  way.  Dat  's  nice!  " 

She  almost  ran  against  the  juggler  as  she 
rounded  the  corner.  He  caught  the  glance  of  her 
eye,  informed  with  that  contempt  for  the  poor 
whites  which  is  so  marked  a  trait  of  negro  charac 
ter,  as  she  walked  on,  swaying  gently  from  side  to 
side  and  crooning  low  to  the  baby. 


1-  THE  JUGGLKR. 

He  did  not  care  to  linger  longer  within  the 
premises.  He  could  not  even  enjoy  the  i.la].-. 
into  old  sounds  and  sights  in  a  guise  in  winch 
he  was  thought  so  meanly  of,  and  which  so  ill 
beseemed  hU  birth  and  Duality.  When  lit-  i^-ued 
from  the  quadrangle,  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
veranda,  he  found  he  was  nearer  the  descent  to 
the  spring  than  to  the  store.  He  thought  he 
would  slip  down  that  dank,  bosky,  deserted  path, 
make  a  circuit  through  the  woods,  and  thus  regain 
tin-  road  homeward  without  risking  further  obser 
vation  and  the  laceration  of  his  quivering  pride. 
False  pride  he  thought  it  might  be,  but  accoutred, 
alas,  with  sensitive  fibres,  with  alert  and  elastic 
muscles  for  the  wri things  of  torture,  with  delicate 
membranes  to  shrivel  and  scorch  and  sear  at  if  it 
were  quite  genuine  and  a  laudable  possession. 

The  ferns  with  long  wide-spreading  fronds,  and 
great  mossy  boulders  amongst  the  dense  under 
growth,  pressed  close  on  either  hand,  and  the  thick 
interlacing  boughs  of  trees  overarched  the  precipi 
tous  vista  as  he  went  down  and  down  into  its  green  - 
tinted  glooms.  Now  and  again  it  curved  and 
sought  a  more  level  course,  but  outcropping  ledges 
interposed,  making  the  way  rugged,  and  soon  cliffs 
began  to  pen-  through  the  foliage,  and  on  one  side 
they  overhung  the  path ;  on  the  other  side  a  pre- 
cipice  lurked,  glimpsed  through  boughs  of  trees 
whose  trunks  were  fifty  feet  lower  on  a  slope  be 
neath.  An  abnipt  turn,  —  the  odor  of  ferns 
blended  with  moisture,  came  delicately,  elusively 


THE  JUGGLER.  313 

fragrant;  a  great  fracture  yawned  amidst  the 
rocks,  and  there,  from  a  cleft  stained  deeply  ochre- 
ous  with  the  oxide  of  iron,  a  crystal-clear  rill  fell 
so  continuously  that  it  seemed  to  possess  no  faculty 
of  motion  in  its  limpid  interfacings  and  plaitings 
as  of  silver  threads;  only  below,  where  the  natural 
stone  basin  —  hewn  out  by  the  constant  beating  of 
the  current  on  the  solid  rock  —  overflowed,  could 
the  momentum  and  power  of  the  water  be  inferred 
from  its  swift  escape,  bounding  over  the  precipice 
and  rushing  off  in  great  haste  for  the  valley.  The 
proprietor  had  had  the  good  taste  to  preserve  the 
woodland  character  of  the  place  intact.  No  sign 
that  civilization  had  ever  intruded  here  did  Royce 
mark,  as  he  looked  about,  save  a  book  on  a  rock 
hard  by.  Some  one  had  sought  this  sylvan  soli 
tude  for  a  quiet  hour  in  the  fascinations  of  its 
pages. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  advanced  cau 
tiously  and  laid  his  hand  upon  it.  How  long,  how 
long  —  it  seemed  as  if  in  another  existence  —  since 
he  had  had  a  book  like  this  in  his  hand!  He 
caught  its  title  eagerly,  and  the  name  of  the 
author.  They  were  new  to  him.  He  turned  the 
pages  with  alert  interest.  The  book  had  been 
published  since  the  date  of  his  exile.  Once  more 
he  fluttered  the  leaves,  and,  like  some  famished, 
thirsting  wretch  drinking  in  great  eager  gulps,  he 
began  to  absorb  the  contents,  his  eyes  glowing  like 
coals,  his  breath  hot,  his  hands  trembling  with 
nervous  haste,  knowing  that  his  time  for  this 


314  THE  JUGGLER. 

draught  of  elixir,  this  refreshment  of  his  soul,  was 
Krirf.  so  brief.  It  would  never  do,  for  a  man  so 
humbly  d:ul  as  he  was,  to  be  caught  reading  with 
evident  delight  a  Heholarly  book  like  this.  \Vlnn 
at  last  he  threw  himself  down  amongst  the  thick 
and  fragrant  mint  beside  the  rock,  his  shoulders 
supported  on  an  outcropping  ledge,  his  hat  fallen 
on  the  ground,  lie  had  forgotten  all  thought  of  cau 
tion,  he  was  not  conscious  how  the  time  sped  by. 
His  eyes  were  alight,  moving  swift  1\  from  >idete 
side  of  the  page.  His  face  glowed  with  responsive 
enthusiasm  to  the  high  thought  of  the  author. 
His  troubles  hail  done  much  to  chasten  its  expres 
sion  and  had  chiseled  its  features.  It  had  never 
been  so  serious,  so  intelligent,  to  refined,  as  now. 
He  did  not  see  how  the  shadows  shifted,  till  in  this 
umbrageous  retreat  a  glittering  lance  of  sunlight 
pierced  the  green  gloom.  He  was  not  even  aware 
of  another  presence,  a  sudden  entrance.  A  young 
lady,  climbing  up  from  the  precipitous  slope  below, 
started  abruptly  at  sight  of  him,  jeopardizing  her 
already  uncertain  footing,  then  stared  for  an  in 
stant  in  blank  amazement. 

So  precarious  was  the  footing  where  she  had 
paused,  however,  that  there  was  no  safe  choice  but 
to  continue  her  ascent.  He  did  not  heed  more  the 
rustle  of  her  garments,  as  she  struggled  to  the  level 
ground,  than  the  rustle  of  the  leaves,  or  the  rattle 
of  the  little  avalanehe  of  gravel  as  her  foot  ujMtn 
the  verge  dislodged  the  pebbles.  Only  when  the 
shaft  of  sunlight  struck  full  ujmn  her  white  piqud 


THE   JUGGLER.  315 

dress,  and  the  reflected  glare  was  flung  over  the 
page  of  the  book  and  into  his  eyes  with  that  reful 
gent  quality  which  a  thick  white  fabric  takes  from 
the  sun,  he  glanced  up  at  the  dazzling  apparition 
with  a  galvanic  start  which  jarred  his  every  fibre. 
He  stared  at  her  for  one  moment  as  if  he  were  in 
a  dream;  he  had  come  from  so  far,  — so  very  far! 
Then  he  grasped  his  troublous  identity,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet  in  great  embarrassment. 

"I  must  apologize,"  he  said,  with  his  most  cour 
teous  intonation,  "  for  taking  the  liberty  of  reading 
your  book." 

"Not  at  all,"  she  murmured  civilly,  but  still 
looking  at  him  in  much  surprise  and  with  intent 
eyes. 

Those  eyes  were  blue  and  soft  and  lustrous;  the 
lashes  were  long  and  black;  the  eyebrows  were  so 
fine,  so  perfect,  so  delicately  arched,  that  they 
might  have  justified  the  writing  of  sonnets  in  their 
praise.  That  delicate  small  Roman  nose  one  knew 
instinctively  she  derived  from  a  father  who  had 
followed  its  prototype  from  one  worldly  advance 
ment  to  another,  and  into  positions  of  special 
financial  trusts  and  high  commercial  consideration. 
It  would  give  distinction  to  her  face  in  the  years 
to  come,  when  her  fresh  and  delicate  lips  should 
fade,  and  that  fluctuating  sea-shell  pink  hue  should 
no  longer  embellish  her  cheek.  Her  complexion 
was  very  fair.  Her  hair,  densely  black,  showed 
under  the  brim  of  the  white  sailor  hat  set  straight 
on  her  small  head.  She  was  tall  and  slender,  and 


316  TV//;  JUGGLH; 

wore  her  simple  dress  with  an  efYect  <>f  finished 
elegance.  She  had  an  air  of  much  refinement  and 
unconscious  dignity,  and  although,  from  her  alert 
volant  pose,  he  inferred  that  she  was  ready  to 
terminate  tin-  interview,  she  did  not  move  at  once 
when  In-  had  tendered  the  book  and  she  had  taken 
it  in  her  hand. 

"I  merely  intended  to  glance  at  the  title."  he 
went  on,  still  overwhelmed  to  be  caught  in  thi- 
literary  poaching,  and  hampered  l>y  the  c«>n-«< -i«>u-- 
ness  that  his  manner  and  hi-  assumed  identity  had 
become  strangely  at  variance.  "But  I  grew  BO 
much  interested  that  I  —  I — quite  lost  m\-elf." 

She  had  some  thought  in  mind  as  she  looked 
down  at  the  l*x>k  in  her  gloved  hand,  then  at  him. 
The  blood  stung  his  cheek  as  he  divined  it.  In 
pity  for  hi-  evident  jM.verty  and  hankering  for  the 
volume,  she  would  fain  have  did  him  keep  it.  But 
with  an  exacting  sense  of  conventionality,  she  -aid 
suavely,  though  with  imjHTSonal  inexpressivene-s, 
"It  is  no  matter.  I  am  glad  it  entertained  you. 
Good -morn  ii 

He  howed  with  distant  and  unprcsuming  jxdite- 
ness,  and  as  she  walked,  with  a  fine  poise  and  a 
quick  ela-tie  gait,  along  the  shadowy  green  path, 
vanishing  at  the  first  turn,  he  felt  the  Mood  beat 
ing  in  his  temples  with  .-ueh  marked  pul-ati  >\\  that 
he  could  have  counted  th<  as  he  stood. 

Did  she  deem  him.  then,  only  a  eommon  moun 
taineer,  a  graceless  unlettered  lout  '  She  rat.  d 
him  as  less  than  the  dust  beneath  her  feet.  He 


THE  JUGGLER.  317 

could  not  endure  that  she  should  think  of  him 
thus.  How  could  she  be  so  obtuse  as  to  fail  to 
see  that  he  was  a  gentleman  for  all  his  shabby 
gear !  It  was  in  him  for  a  moment  to  hasten  after 
her  and  reveal  his  name  and  quality,  that  she 
might  not  look  at  him  as  a  creature  of  no  worth, 
a  being  of  a  different  sphere,  hardly  allied  even  to 
the  species  she  represented. 

He  was  following  on  her  path,  when  the  reflex 
sentiment  struck  him.  "Am  I  mad?"  he  said  to 
himself.  "Have  I  lost  all  sense  of  caution  and 
self-preservation?  " 

He  stood  panting  and  silent,  the  wounded  look 
in  his  eyes  so  intense  that  by  some  subtle  sym 
pathetic  influence  they  hurt  him,  as  if  in  the  ten 
sion  of  a  strain  upon  them,  and  he  passed  his 
hand  across  them  as  he  took  his  way  back  to  the 
spring. 

Did  he  wish  the  lady  to  recognize  his  station  in 
life,  and  speculate  touching  his  name?  He  was 
fortunate  in  that  she  was  so  young,  for  to  those  of 
more  experience  the  incongruities  of  the  interest 
manifested  by  an  uncouth  and  ignorant  mountain 
eer  in  a  metaphysical  book  like  that  might  indeed 
advertise  mystery  and  provoke  inquiry.  Was  he 
hurt  because  the  lady,  noting  his  flagrant  poverty, 
had  evidently  wished  to  bestow  upon  him  the  vol 
ume  which  he  had  been  reading  with  such  delight, 
—  so  little  to  her,  so  infinite  to  him?  And  should 
he  not  appreciate  her  delicate  sense  of  the  appro 
priate,  that  had  forbidden  this  generosity,  consid- 


Sll  T lit: 

ering  her  youth,  and  tin-  fact  that  he  was  a  stranger 
ami  seemingly  a  rustic  clown?  He  rather  won 
dered  at  the  scholarly  Knit  of  her  taste  in  litera- 
tiiri-.  and  her  avoidance  of  the  mirthful  scenes  of 
the  veranda,  that  she  might  spend  the  morning  in 
thought  so  fresh,  so  deep,  so  expansive.  It  hardly 
seemed  apposite  to  her  age  and  the  tale  tliat  the 
thermometer  told,  for  this  was  a  book  for  study. 
Then-  \va^  something  simple-hearted  in  his  accept 
ance  of  this  high  intellectual  ideal  \\hi.-h  all  at 
once  she  represented  to  him.  A  few  months  ago 
he  might  have  scoffed  at  it  as  a  pose;  he  would  at 
least  have  surmised  the  fact,  —  a  mistake  had  Wen 
caused  by  a  similarity  of  binding  with  that  of  a 
popular  novel  of  the  day  with  which  she  had  hoped 
to  while  away  the  time  in  the  cool  recesses  besil- 
the  spring,  and  thus  the  volume  had  l>een  thr<>ui: 
di-t-aided  "ii  ill--  r<M-U.  \\hil.-  -h.-  eliml.e.l  tin-  -ln]>.-> 

searching  for  the  Chilhowee  lily. 

The  fire  of  humiliation  still  scorched  his  eyes, 
and  his  deep  depression  was  patent  in  his  face  and 
figure,  when  he  reached  the  Sims  house  at  last, 
and  threw  himself  down  in  a  chair  in  the  passage. 
One  elbow  was  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  and  he 
rested  his  chin  in  his  hand  as  he  looked  out  gloom 
ily  at  the  mountains  that  limited  his  world,  and 
\\ished  that  he  had  never  ^•••i\  them  and  mijit 
never  see  them  again.  The  house  was  full  of  the 
odor  of  frying  bacon,  for  there  was  no  whiff  of 
wind  in  the  Cove.  The  rooms  were  close  and  hot, 
and  the  sun  lay  half  across  the  floor,  and  burnt. 


THE  JUGGLER.  319 

and  shimmered,  and  dazzled  the  eye.  The  suffo 
cating  odor  of  the  blistering  clapboards  of  the  roof, 
and  of  the  reserves  of  breathless  heat  stored  in  the 
attic,  penetrated  the  spaces  below.  Jane  Ann  Sims 
sat  melting  by  degrees  in  the  doorway,  where,  if  a 
draught  were  possible  to  the  atmosphere  from  any 
of  the  four  quarters,  she  might  be  in  its  direct 
route.  Meantime  she  nodded  oblivious,  and  her 
great  head  and  broad  face  dripping  with  moisture 
wabbled  helplessly  on  her  bosom. 

Euphemia,  coming  out  suddenly  with  a  pan  of 
peas  to  shell  for  dinner,  and  seeking  a  respite 
from  the  heat  of  the  fire,  caught  sight  of  Royce 
with  a  radiant  look  of  delight  to  which  for  his  life 
he  could  not  respond.  She  was  pallid  and  limp 
with  the  work  of  preparing  dinner,  and  even  in 
the  poetic  entanglements  of  her  curling  shining 
hair  she  brought  that  most  persistent  aroma  of  the 
frying-pan.  The  coarse  florid  calico,  the  mis 
shapen  little  brogans  which  she  adjusted  on  the 
rung  of  her  chair  as  she  tilted  it  back  against  the 
wall  with  the  pan  in  her  lap,  her  drawling  voice, 
the  lapses  of  her  ignorant  speech,  her  utter  lack 
of  all  the  graces  of  training  and  culture,  impressed 
him  anew  with  the  urgency  of  a  fresh  discovery. 

"What  air  it  ez  ails  you-uns?"  she  demanded, 
with  a  certain  anxiety  in  her  eyes.  "Ye  hev  acted 
sorter  cur'ous  all  this  week.  Do  you-uns  feel  sick 
ennywhars?  " 

"Lord,  no!"  exclaimed  the  juggler  irritably; 
"there  's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 


320  THE  Jl'GULKR. 

She  looke<l  at  him  in  amazement  for  a  moment; 
he  had  had  no  words  for  her  of  late  but  hon> 
praise.    The  change  was  sudden  am  I  Lit  t«-r.     There 
was  an  appealing  protest  in  her  frightened  eyes, 
and  the  color  rushed  to  her  face. 

Hi  hud  no  affinities  for  the  role  of  fickle-minded 
lover,  and  he  was  hardly  likely  to  seek  to  palliate 
the  cruelty  of  inconstancy.  He  took  <  \tivmc 
pride  in  being  a  man  of  his  word.  The  sense  of 
honor,  which  was  all  the  religion  he  had  and 
chiefly  active  commercially,  was  evident  too  in  his 
personal  affairs.  Was  it  her  fault,  he  argued,  his 
poor  little  love,  that  she  was  so  hopelessly  rustic  ' 
Had  he  not  sought  her  when  she  was  averse  to 
him,  and  won  her  heart  from  a  man  she  loved. 
who  would  never  have  thought  himself  too  good 
for  her?  He  would  not  apologize,  however.  lie 
would  not  let  her  think  that  he  had  been  vexed 
into  hasty  speech  by  the  mere  sight  of  her,  the 
sound  of  her  voice. 

"You  just  keep  that  up,"  he  said,  conserving 
an  expression  of  animosity  before  which  she  visibly 
quaked,  "and  yon  '11  have  Mrs.  Sims  brewing  her 
infernal  herb  teas  for  me  in  about  three  minutes 
and  a  quarter.  I  want  you  to  stop  talking  about 
my  being  ill,  short  off." 

As  she  gazed  at  him  she  burst  into  a  little  trill 
of  treble  laughter,  that  had  nevertheless  the  sug 
gestion  of  tears  ready  to  be  shed,  in  the  extremity 
of  her  relief. 

"  I   have  walked  twenty  miles  to-day,  and  it 's 


THE  JUGGLER.  321 

a  goodish  tramp  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  —  over  to 
New  Helvetia  and  back;  and  I'm  fagged  out, 
that 'sail." 

Her  equilibrium  was  restored  once  more,  and 
her  eyes  were  radiant  with  the  joy  of  loving  and 
being  loved.  Yet  she  paused  suddenly,  her  hand 

—  he  winced  that  he  should  notice  how  rough  and 
large  it  was,  the  nails  blunt  and  short  and  broad 

—  resting  motionless  on  the  edge  of  the  pan,  as 
she  said,  "I  wisht  ye  would  gin  up  goin'  ter  that 
thar  hotel.     Ye  look  strange  ter-day,"  —  her  eyes 
searched  his   face  as  if  for  an  interpretation  of 
something  troublous,  daunting,  —  "  so  strange !  so 
strange!" 

"How? "  he  demanded  angrily,  knitting  his 
brows. 

"Ez  ef  —  ef  ye  hed  been  'witched  somehows," 
she  answered,  "like  I  'low  folks  mus'  look  ez 
view  a  witch  in  the  woods  an'  git  under  some  un- 
y earthly  spell.  The  woods  air  powerful  thick 
over  to'des  New  Helveshy,  an'  folks  'low  they  air 
fairly  roamin'  with  witches  an'  sech.  I  ain't 
goin'  ter  gin  my  cornsent  fur  ye  ter  go  through  'em 
no  mo'." 

She  pressed  a  pod  softly,  and  the  peas  flew  out 
and  rattled  in  the  pan,  and  the  tension  was  at  an 
end.  He  felt  that  she  was  far  too  acute,  however. 
He  was  sorry  she  had  ever  known  of  his  visits 
to  New  Helvetia.  She  should  suppose  them  dis 
continued.  He  certainly  coveted  no  feminine 
espionage. 


322  THE  JUGGLER. 

He  could  not  escape  the  thought  of  the  place 
now.  The  face  of  the  beautiful  stranger  was  be 
fore  his  eyes  every  waking  hour;  and  there  were 
many,  for  the  nights  had  lost  their  balm  of  sleep. 
The  tones  of  her  voice  sounded  in  his  ear.  The 
delicate  values  of  her  refined  bearing,  the  sugges 
tions  of  culture  and  charm  and  high  breeding 
which  breathed  from  her  presence  like  a  perfume, 
had  i nth  railed  his  senses  as  might  the  subtile  and 
aerial  potencies  of  ether.  He  had  no  more  voli 
tion.  He  could  not  resist.  Yet  it  was  not,  he 
stipulated,  this  stranger  whom  he  adored.  It  was 
what  she  represented.  He  perceived  at  last  that 
for  him  the  artificialities  of  life  were  the  realities. 
Even  his  own  cherished  gifts  were  matters  of  sed 
ulous  cultivation  of  certain  natural  aptitudes,  the 
training  of  which  was  more  remarkable  than  the 
endowment ;  and  indeed,  of  what  worth  the  latent 
talent  without  that  culture  which  gives  it  use,  and 
in  fact  recognized  being  at  all?  The  status  had 
an  inherent  integral  value,  the  human  creature  was 
its  mere  incident.  Nature  was  naught  to  him. 
The  triumphs  of  the  world  are  the  uses  man  has 
made  of  nature;  the  forces  that  have  lifted  him 
from  plane  to  plane,  and  sublimated  the  mere  in 
telligence.  \v  hirh  he  shares  with  the  beast,  into  in 
tellectuality,  which  is  the  extremest  development 
of  mind. 

As  he  argued  thus  al.stmrtK .  the  lon^ini:  to  see 
her  again  grew  rosietlono.  Not  himself  to  be  seen, 
and  never,  never  again  by  her!  He  would  only 


THE  JUGGLER.  323 

look  at  her  from  afar,  as  one  —  even  so  humble  a 
wretch  —  might  gaze  at  some  masterpiece  of  the 
artist's  craft,  might  kneel  in  abasement  and  self- 
abnegation  before  some  noble  shrine.  He  craved 
to  see  her  in  her  splendid  young  loveliness  and 
girlish  enjoyment,  in  gala  attire,  at  the  grand  fete 
on  which  the  youth  of  New  Helvetia  were  expend 
ing  their  ingenuity  of  invention  and  expansive 
energy.  Even  prudence  could  not  say  him  nay. 
Did  fate  grudge  him  a  glimpse  that  he  might  gain 
at  the  door,  or  while  between  the  dances  she  walked 
with  her  partner  on  the  moonlit  veranda?  Who 
would  note  a  flitting  ghost,  congener  of  the  shadow, 
lurking  in  the  deep  glooms  beneath  the  trees  and 
looking  wistfully  at  the  world  from  which  he  had 
been  snatched  away? 

It  was  with  a  lacerating  sense  of  renunciation 
that  he  parted  with  each  instant  of  the  time  during 
the  momentous  evening  when  he  might  have  beheld 
her  in  the  tableaux ;  for  he  could  with  certainty  fix 
upon  the  place  she  occupied,  having  gathered  from 
the  talk  at  the  store  the  date  and  order  of  the 
festivities.  But  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the 
Sims  family.  It  had  been  vaguely  borne  in  upon 
Mrs.  Sims  that  he  was  growing  tired  of  them,  and 
in  sudden  alarm  lest  Euphemia's  happiness  prove 
precarious,  and  with  that  disposition  to  assume  the 
blame  not  properly  chargeable  to  one's  self  which 
is  common  to  some  good  people,  who  perceive  no 
turpitude  in  lying  when  the  deceit  is  practiced  only 
on  themselves,  she  made  herself  'believe  that  the 


324  THE  JUGGLER. 

change  was  merely  because  she  had  been  remiss  in 
her  attentions  to  her  guest,  and  had  treated  him 
too  much  and  too  informally  as  one  of  the  family. 
She  smiled  broadly  upon  him,  with  each  of  her 
many  dimples  in  evidence,  which  had  never  won 
upon  him,  even  in  the  days  of  his  blandest  con 
tentment.  She  detained  him  in  conversation. 
She  requested  that  he  would  favor  her  with  the 
exact  rendition  of  the  air  to  which  he  sang  the 
words  of  Rock  of  Ages,  one  Sunday  morning  when 
he  had  heard  the  bells  of  the  St.  Louis  church 
towers  ringing  from  out  the  misty  west;  and  as 
he  dully  complied,  his  tones  breaking  more  than 
once,  she  accommodatingly  wheezed  along  with 
him,  quite  secure  of  his  commendation.  For  Jane 
Ann  Sims  had  been  a  "plumb  special  singer" 
when  she  was  young  and  slim,  and  no  matter  how 
intelligent  a  woman  may  be,  she  never  outgrows 
her  attractions  —  in  her  own  eyes. 

At  last  the  house  was  still,  and  the  juggler, 
having  endured  an  agony  of  suspense  in  his  deter 
mination  to  suppress  all  demonstrations  of  interest 
in  New  Helvetia,  lest  the  intuition  of  the  two 
women  should  divine  the  cause  from  even  so  slight 
indicia  as  might  baffle  reason,  found  himself  free 
from  question  and  surmise  and  comment.  He 
was  off  in  the  darkness,  with  a  furtive  noiseless 
speed,  like  some  wild  errant  thing  of  the  night, 
native  to  the  woods.  He  bad  a  Mote  of  the 
shadow  and  of  the  sheen  of  a  fair  young  moon  in 
the  wilderness;  he  knew  that  the  air  was  dank  ami 


THE  JUGGLER.  325 

cool  and  that  the  dew  fell ;  he  took  note  mechan 
ically  of  the  savage  densities  of  the  wilds  when  he 
heard  the  shrill  blood-curdling  quavering  of  a 
catamount's  scream,  and  he  laid  his  grasp  on  the 
handle  of  a  sharp  bowie-knife  that  he  wore  in  his 
belt,  which  he  had  bought  for  a  juggling  trick  that 
he  had  not  played  at  the  curtailed  performance  in 
the  schoolhouse,  and  he  wished  that  it  were  instead 
Tubal  Cain's  shooting-iron.  But  beyond  this  his 
mind  was  a  blank.  He  did  not  think ;  he  did  not 
feel ;  his  every  capacity  was  concentrated  upon  his 
gait  and  the  speed  that  he  made.  He  did  not 
know  how  short  a  time  had  elapsed  when  the  series 
of  points  of  yellow  light  from  the  ballroom  win 
dows,  like  a  chain  of  glowing  topaz,  shone  through 
the  black  darkness  and  the  misty  tremulous  dim 
ness  of  the  moon.  His  teeth  were  set;  he  was 
fit  to  fall;  he  paused  only  a  moment,  leaning  on 
the  rail  of  the  bridge  to  draw  a  deep  breath  and  re 
lax  his  muscles.  Then  he  came  on,  swift,  silent, 
steady,  to  the  veranda. 

Around  the  doors,  outside  the  ballroom,  were 
crowded  figures,  whose  dusky  faces  and  ivory  teeth 
caught  the  light  from  within  and  attested  the  en 
joyment  of  the  servants  of  the  place  as  spectators 
of  the  scene.  He  saw  through  an  aperture,  as  one 
of  them  moved  aside,  a  humble  back  bench  against 
the  wall,  on  which  sat  two  or  three  of  the  moun 
taineers  of  the  vicinity,  calmly  and  stolidly  looking 
on,  without  more  facial  expression  of  opinion  than 
Indians  might  have  manifested.  He  would  not 


326  THE  JUGGLER. 

join  this  group,  lest  she  might  notice  him  in  their 
company,  which  he  repudiated,  as  if  his  similarity 
of  aspect  were  not  his  reliance  t«>  -^ivr  all  that  he 
and  men  of  his  kind  held  dear.  Tin-  windows  \M  r«- 
too  higli  from  the  ground  to  afford  a  glimpse  of  the 
interior;  he  stood  irresolute  for  a  moment,  with 
the  strains  of  the  waltz  music  vibrating  in  his  very 
heart-strings.  Suddenh  In-  marked  how  the  ground 
rose  toward  the  further  end  of  the  building.  The 
last  two  windows  evidently  were  partially  blockaded 
by  the  slope  so  close  without,  and  could  serve  only 
purposes  of  ventilation.  Responsive  to  the  thought, 
he  climbed  the  steep  slant,  dark,  dewy,  and  soli 
tary,  and,  lying  in  the  soft  lush  grass,  looked  down 
upon  the  illuminated  ballroom. 

At  first  he  did  not  see  her.  With  his  heart 
thumping  much  after  the  fashion  of  the  l>as-  viol. 
till  it  seemed  to  beat  in  his  ears,  he  gazed  on  the 
details  of  a  scene  such  as  he  had  thought  never  to 
look  upon  again.  He  recognized  with  a  sort  of 
community  spirit  and  pleasure  how  well  the  frolic 
some  youth  had  utili/ed  their  slender  opportuni 
ties,  so  far  from  the  emporiums  of  civilization. 
Great  branching  ferns  had  adequately  enough  sup 
plied  the  place  of  palms,  their  fronds  waving 
lightly  from  the  walls  in  every  whirling  breeze 
from  the  flight  of  the  dance.  Infinite  lengths  of 
vines  —  the  Virginia  creeper,  the  ground  ivy,  and 
the  wild  grape  —  twined  about  the  pillars,  and 
festooned  the  ceiling,  the  band-stand,  and  the 
rhandelier>.  For  tin  HIM  tiuu-  lie  was  made  aware 


THE   JUGGLER.  327 

of  the  decorative  values  of  the  blackberry,  when 
it  is  red,  and,  paradoxically,  green.  The  unripe 
scarlet  clusters  were  everywhere  massed  amidst  the 
vines  with  an  effect  as  brilliant  as  holly.  All  the 
aisles  of  the  surrounding  woods  had  been  explored 
for  wild  flowers.  Here  and  there  were  tables  laden 
with  great  masses  of  delicate  blossoms,  and  from 
time  to  time  young  couples  paused  in  their  aimless 
strolling  back  and  forth,  —  for  the  music  had  ceased 
for  the  nonce,  —  and  examined  specimens,  and  dis 
puted  over  varieties,  and  apparently  disparaged 
one  another's  slender  scraps  of  botany. 

The  band,  high  in  their  cage,  —  prosperous, 
pompous  darkies,  of  lofty  manners,  but  entertain 
ing  with  an  air  of  courteous  condescension  any 
request  which  might  be  preferred,  in  regard  to  the 
music,  by  the  young  guests  of  the  hotel,  —  looked 
down  upon  the  scene  complacently.  Against  the 
walls  were  ranged  the  chaperons  in  their  most 
festal  black  attire,  enhanced  by  fine  old  lace  and 
fragile  glittering  fans  and  a  somewhat  dazzling 
display  of  diamonds.  The  portly  husbands  and 
fathers,  fitting  very  snugly  in  their  dress  suits, 
hovered  about  these  borders  with  that  freshened 
relish  of  scenes  of  youthful  festivity  which  some 
how  seems  increased  in  proportion  as  the  possibil 
ity  and  privilege  of  participation  are  withdrawn. 
Some  of  the  younger  gentlemen  also  wore  merely 
the  ordinary  evening  dress,  the  difficulty  of  evolv 
ing  a  fancy  costume,  or  a  secret  aversion  to  the 
characters  they  had  represented  in  the  tableaux, 


328  TV/ A    JfGfil.EK. 

warranting  fliis  departure  from   tin    -pint  of  tin- 
occasion. 

Everywhere,  however,  the  younger  feminine 
element  blossomed  out  in  poetic  i;ui-.-.  Here  and 
there  fluttered  fail  i«  -  with  the  silver-flecked  gauze 
wings  that  Royce  had  seen  a-making,  and  Titan  ia 
still  wore  her  crown,  although  Bottom  had  thrown 
his  pasteboard  head  out  of  the  window,  and  was 
now  a  grave  and  sedate  young  American  citizen. 
Red  Riding-Hood  and  the  Wolf  still  made  the 
grand  tour  in  amicable  company,  and  Pocahontas, 
in  a  fawn-tinted  cycling-skirt  and  leggings  and  a 
red  blanket  bedizened  with  all  the  borrowed  beads 
and  feathers  that  the  Springs  could  afford,  was 
.•M.-rinrtl  fh:tr:i''t.'i  i-tir  in.  1. •«•<!.  l>a\\  < 'ni.-Krtt 
had  a  real  coonskin  cap  which  he  had  bought  for 
lucre  from  a  mountaineer,  and  which  he  intended 
to  take  home  as  a  souvenir  of  the  Great  Smokies, 
although  he  was  fain  to  carry  it  now  by  tin-  tail 
because  of  the  heat;  but  he  invariably  put  it  on 
and  drew  himself  up  to  his  tableau  estimate  of 
inil>ortance  whenever  one  of  the  elderly  ladies 
clutched  at  him,  as  he  passed,  to  inquire  if  he 
were  certainly  sure  that  the  long  and  ancient  flint- 
lock  (Iwrrowed)  which  he  bore  over  his  shoulder 
was  unloaded.  There  had  evidently  been  a  tableau 
representing  Flora's  court  or  similar  blooming 
tin -me,  since  so  many  personified  flowers  were 
wasting  their  sweetness  on  the  unobservant  and 
••accustomed  air.  Tin-  wil<l  IOM-  was  in  several 
shades  of  fleecy  pink,  festooned  with  her  own  gar- 


THE  JUGGLER.  329 

lands.  A  wallflower  —  a  dashing  blonde  —  was  in 
brown  and  yellow,  and  had  half  the  men  in  the 
room  around  her. 

Suddenly  —  Lucien  Royce's  heart  gave  a  great 
throb  and  seemed  to  stand  still,  for,  on  the  arm  of 
her  last  partner,  coming  slowly  down  the  room 
until  she  stood  in  the  full  glow  of  the  nearest  chan 
delier,  all  in  white,  in  shining  white  satin,  with  a 
grace  and  dignity  which  embellished  her  youth, 
was  she  whom  he  had  so  longed  to  see.  Her  bare 
arms  and  shoulders  were  of  a  soft  whiteness  that 
made  the  tone  of  the  satin  by  contrast  glazing  and 
hard.  Her  delicate  head,  with  its  black  hair 
arranged  close  and  high,  had  the  pose  of  a  lily  on 
its  stalk.  Scattered  amid  the  dense  dark  tresses 
diamonds  glittered  and  quivered  like  dewdrops. 
Her  face  had  that  flower-like  look  not  uncommon 
among  the  type  of  the  very  fair  women  with  dark 
hair  from  the  extreme  South.  Over  the  white 
satin  was  some  filmy  thin  material,  like  the  deli 
cate  tissues  of  a  corolla;  and  only  when  he  had 
marked  these  liliaceous  similitudes  did  he  observe 
that  it  was  the  Chilhowee  lily  which  she  had 
chosen  to  represent.  Now  and  again  that  most 
ethereal  flower  showed  amongst  the  folds  of  her 
skirt.  A  cluster  as  fragile  as  a  dream  lay  on  her 
bosom,  and  in  her  hand  she  carried  a  single  blos 
som,  poetic  and  perfect,  trembling  on  its  long 
stalk. 

There  rose  upon  the  air  a  soft  welling  out  of 
the  music.  The  band  was  playing  "Home,  Sweet 


330  THE   JUGGLER. 

Home."  She  had  movrd  out  <»f  tin*  range  of  his 
vision.  There  was  a  murmur  of  voices  on  the 
veranda  as  the  crowd  emerged.  The  light ^  \\viv 
abruptly  quenched  in  darkness.  And  he  laid  lii- 
head  face  downward  in  the  deep  grass  and  \vi-ln -d 
he  might  never  lift  it  again. 


xn. 

OWEN  HAINES  spent  many  a  lonely  hour,  in 
these  days,  at  the  foot  of  a  great  tree  in  the  woods, 
riving  poplar  shingles.  Near  by  in  the  green  and 
gold  glinting  of  the  breeze-swept  undergrowth  an 
other  great  tree  lay  prone  on  the  ground.  The 
space  around  him  was  covered  with  the  chips  hewn 
from  its  bole,  —  an  illuminated  yellow-hued  carpet 
in  the  soft  wavering  emerald  shadows.  The  smooth 
shingles,  piled  close  at  hand,  multiplied  rapidly  as 
the  sharp  blade  glided  swiftly  through  the  poplar 
fibres.  From  time  to  time  he  glanced  up  expect 
antly,  vainly  looking  for  Absalom  Tynes;  for  it 
had  once  been  the  wont  of  the  young  preacher  to 
lie  here  on  the  clean  fresh  chips  and  talk  through 
much  of  the  sunlit  days  to  his  friend,  who  wel 
comed  him  as  a  desert  might  welcome  a  summer 
shower.  He  would  talk  on  the  subject  nearest  the 
hearts  of  both,  his  primitive  theology,  —  a  subject 
from  which  Owen  Haines  was  otherwise  debarred, 
as  no  other  ministerial  magnate  would  condescend 
to  hold  conversation  on  such  a  theme  with  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  meetings,  whose  aspirations 
it  was  held  to  be  a  duty  in  the  cause  of  religion  to 
discourage  and  destroy  if  might  be.  Only  Tynes 
understood  him,  hoped  for  him,  felt  with  him. 


332  THE  JUGGLER. 

But  Tynes  was  now  at  the  schoolhouse  in  the 
Cove,  listening  in  fascinated  interest  to  the  jn^ler 
as  he  recited  from  memory,  and  himself  reading 
in  eager  and  earnest  docility,  copying  his  master's 
methods. 

Therefore,  when  the  step  of  a  man  sounded 
along  the  bosky  path  which  Haines  had  worn  to 
his  working-place,  and  he  looked  up  with  eager  an 
ticipation,  he  encountered  only  disap]K>intment  at 
the  sight  of  Peter  Knowles  approaching  through 
the  leaves. 

Knowles  paused  and  glanced  about  him  with 
withering  disdain.  "Tynes  ain't  hyar,"  he  ob 
served.  "I  dun  in-  ez  I  looked  ter  view  him, 
nuther." 

He  dropped  down  on  the  fragrant  carpet  of 
chips,  and  for  the  first  time  Haines  noticed  that 
he  carried,  after  a  gingerly  fashion,  on  the  end  of 
a  stick,  a  bundle  apparently  of  clothes,  and  plen 
tifully  dusted  with  something  white  and  jwwdery. 
Even  in  the  open  air  and  the  rush  of  the  summer 
wind  the  odor  exhaled  by  quicklime  was  powerful 
and  pungent,  and  the  scorching  particles  came 
flying  into  Haines's  face.  As  he  drew  back 
Knowles  noticed  the  gesture,  and  adroitly  flung 
the  bundle  and  stick  to  leeward,  saying,  "Don't  it 
'pear  plumb  cur'ous  ter  you-uns,  the  idee  o'  a 
minister  o'  the  gorspel  a-settin'  out  ter  1'arn  how 
ter  read  the  Bible  from  a  oncon verted  sinner?  I 
hearn  this  hyar  juggler-man  'low  ez  he  warn't  even 
a  mourner,  though  he  said  he  hed  suthin'  ter  mourn 


THE  JUGGLER.  333 

over.  An'  I  '11  sw'ar  he  hev,"  he  added  signifi 
cantly,  "an'  he  may  look  ter  hev  more." 

The  poplar  slivers  flew  fast  from  the  keen  blade, 
and  the  workman's  eyes  were  steadfastly  fixed  on 
the  shingle  growing  in  his  hand. 

Peter  Knowles  chewed  hard  on  his  quid  of  to 
bacco  for  a  moment ;  then  he  broke  out  abruptly, 
"Owen  Haines,  I  knows  ye  want  ter  sarve  the 
Lord,  an'  thar  's  many  a  way  o'  doin'  it  besides 
preachin',  else  I  'd  be  a-preachin'  myself." 

Such  was  the  hold  that  his  aspiration  had  taken 
upon  Haines 's  mind  that  he  lifted  his  head  in 
sudden  expectancy  and  with  a  certain  radiant  sub- 
missiveness  on  his  face,  as  if  his  Master's  will 
could  come  even  by  Peter  Knowles! 

"I  brung  ye  yer  chance,"  continued  Knowles. 
Then,  with  a  quick  change  from  a  sanctimonious 
whine  to  an  eager,  sharp  tone  full  of  excitement, 
"What  ye  reckon  air  in  that  bundle?" 

Haines,  surprised  at  this  turn  of  the  conversa 
tion,  glanced  around  at  the  bundle  in  silence. 

"An'  whar  do  ye  reckon  I  got  it?"  asked 
Knowles.  Then,  as  Owen  Haines's  eyes  expressed 
a  wondering  question,  he  went  on,  mysteriously 
lowering  his  voice,  "I  fund  it  in  my  rock-house, 
—  that  big  cave  o'  mine  whar  I  stored  away  the 
lime  I  burned  on  the  side  o'  the  mounting  —  this 
bundle  war  flung  in  thar  an'  kivered  by  quick 
lime!" 

Haines  stared  in  blank  amazement  for  a  mo 
ment.  "I  'lowed  ye  hed  plugged  up  the  hole 


334  THE  JUGGLER. 

goin'  inter  yer  cave,  ter  keep  the  lime  dry,  with  a 
big  boulder." 

"Edzac'ly,  edzac'ly!"  Knowles  assent..!,  his 
close-set  eyes  so  intent  \\\»>\\  llaine«.  a-  t<>  j.ut  him 
out  of  countenance  in  some  degree. 

llaines  sought  to  withdraw  his  glance  from  their 
baleful  significant  expression,  but  his  eyelids  fal 
tered  and  quivered,  and  he  continued  to  look  win- 
cingly  at  his  interlocutor.  "  1  'lowed  'twar  too 
heavy  for  enny  one  man  ter  move,"  he  commented 
vaguely,  at  last. 

"Thout  he  war  holped  by  the  devil,"  Kn< .\\les 
stipulated. 

There  was  a  pause.  The  young  workman's 
hand  was  still.  His  companion's  society  «li<l  n<>t 
accord  with  his  mood.  The  loneliness  had  In-en 
soft  and  sweet,  and  of  peaceful  intimations.  Ill- 
frequent  disappointments  were  of  protean  guise. 
Where  was  that  work  for  the  Master  tliat  Peter 
Knowles  had  promised  him? 

"Owen  Haines,"  cried  Peter  Km>\vle«.  Mnhlfiily, 
uhev  that  thar  man  what  calls  hisself  a  juggler- 
man  done  ennythin'  but  harm  sence  he  hev  been 
in  the  Cove  an'  the  mountings?" 

Haines,  the  color  flaring  to  his  brow,  laid  quick 
hold  on  his  shingle-knife  and  rived  the  wood  apart; 
his  breath  came  fast  and  his  hand  shook,  although 
his  work  was  steady.  He  was  all  unnoting  that 
Peter  Knowles  was  watching  him  with  an  un 
guarded  eye  of  open  amusement,  and  a  silent  sneer 
that  left  long  tobacco-stained  teeth  visible  below 


THE  JUGGLER.  335 

the  curling  upper  lip.  But  a  young  fool's  folly  is 
often  propitious  for  the  plans  of  a  wiser  man,  and 
Knowles  was  not  ill  pleased  to  descry  the  fact  that 
the  relations  between  the  two  could  not  admit  of 
friendship,  or  tolerance,  or  even  indifference. 

"Fust,"  he  continued,  "he  gin  that  onholy  show 
in  the  church-house,  what  I  never  seen,  but  it  hev 
set  folks  powerful  catawampus  an'  hendered  reli 
gion,  fur  the  devil  war  surely  in  it." 

Owen  Haines  took  off  his  hat  to  toss  his  long 
fair  hair  back  from  his  brow,  and  looked  with 
troubled,  reflective  eyes  down  the  long  aisles  of  the 
gold-flecked  verdure  of  the  woods. 

"Then  he  tricked  you-uns  somehows  out'n  yer 
sweetheart,  what  ye  hed  been  keepin'  company 
with  so  long." 

Haines  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "We-uns 
quar'led,"  he  said.  "I  dunno  ef  he  hed  nuthin' 
ter  do  with  it." 

"Did  Phemie  an'  you-uns  ever  quar'l  'fore  he 
kem  ter  Sims's?"  demanded  the  sly  Knowles. 

They  had  never  quarreled  before  Haines  "got 
religion"  and  took  to  "prayin'  fur  the  power." 
He  had  never  thought  the  juggler  chargeable  with 
these  differences,  but  the  fallacy  now  occurred  to 
him  that  they  might  have  been  precipitated  by 
Royce's  ridicule  of  him  as  a  wily  device  to  rid 
her  of  her  lover.  His  face  grew  hot  and  angry. 
There  was  fire  in  his  eyes.  His  lips  parted  and 
his  breath  came  quick. 

"He  hev  toled  off  Tynes  too,"  resumed  Knowles, 


336  ////; 

with  a  melancholy  intonation.  "He  hev  got  all 
the  lures  and  witchment*  of  the  devil  at  command. 
I  kem  by  the  church-house  awhile  ago,  an'  I  hearn 
Mini  an1  Tynes  in  thar,  speakin'  an"  readin'.  An' 
I  sez  ter  myself,  sez  I,  *  Pore  Owen  Haines.  up 
yander  in  the  woods,  hev  got  nuther  his  fricn', 
now,  nor  his  sweetheart.  Him  an'  Phemie  keeps 
company  no  mo'  in  this  worlV  ' 

There  was  a  sudden  twitch  of  Haines's  features, 
as  if  these  piercing  words  had  IHHMI  with  some 
material  sharpness  thrust  in  amongst  sennit i\v  \\-~- 
aucs.  It  was  all  true,  all  true. 

The  iron  was  hot,  and  Peter  Knowles  struck. 
"That  ain't  the  wust,"  he  said,  leaning  forward 
and  bringing  his  face  with  blazing  eyes  close  to 
his  companion.  "This  hyar  juggler  hev  killed  a 
man,  an'  flung  his  bones  inter  the  quicklime  in 
my  rock-house." 

Haines,  with  a  galvanic  start,  turned,  pale  and 
aghast,  upon  his  companion.  He  could  only  gasp,  • 
but  Knowles  went  on  convulsively  and  without 
question:  "I  s'picioned  him  from  the  fust.  He 
stopped  thar  at  the  cave  whar  I  war  burnin'  lime 
the  night  o'  the  show,  an'  holped  ter  put  it  in 
outer  the  weather  bein'  ez  the  rain  would  slake 
it.  An'  he  axed  me  ef  quicklime  would  sure  burn 
up  a  dead  body.  An'  when  I  told  him,  he  turned 
as  he  went  away  an*  looked  back,  smilin'  an'  sorter 
motionin'  with  his  hand,  an'  looked  back  agin,  an* 
looked  back." 

He  reached  out  slowly  for  the  stick  with  the 


THE  JUGGLER.  337 

bundle  tied  at  the  end,  and  dragged  it  toward  him, 
the  breath  of  the  scalding  lime  perceptible  as  it 
was  drawn  near. 

"Las'  week,  one  evenin'  late,"  he  said  in  a 
lowered  voice  and  with  his  eyes  alight  and  glan 
cing,  "hevin'  kep'  a  watch  on  this  young  buzzard, 
an'  noticin'  him  forever  travelin'  the  New  Hel- 
veshy  road  what  ain't  no  business  o'  his'n,  I 
'lowed  I  'd  foller  him.  An'  he  kerries  a  bundle. 
He  walks  fast  an'  stops  short,  an'  studies,  an' 
turns  back  suddint,  an'  stops  agin,  an'  whirls 
roun',  an'  goes  on.  An'  his  face  looks  like  death! 
An'  sometimes  he  stops  short  to  sigh,  ez  ef  he 
could  n't  get  his  breath.  But  he  don't  go  ter  New 
Helveshy.  He  goes  ter  my  cave.  An'  he  hev  got 
breath  enough  ter  fling  away  that  tormented  big 
boulder,  an'  toss  in  these  gyarmints,  an'  churn  the 
lime  over  'em  with  a  stick  till  he  hed  ter  hold  his 
hand  over  his  eyes  ter  keep  his  eyesight,  an'  fling 
back  the  boulder,  an'  run  off  faster  'n  a  fox  along 
the  road  ter  Sims's." 

There  was  a  long  silence  as  the  two  men  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"What  air  ye  tellin'  this  ter  me  fur?"  said 
Haines  at  last,  struggling  with  a  mad  impulse  of 
hope  —  of  joy,  was  it  ?  For  if  this  were  true,  — 
and  true  it  must  be,  —  the  spurious  supplantation 
in  Euphemia's  affections  might  soon  be  at  an  end. 
If  her  love  could  not  endure  ridicule,  would  it 
condone  crime?  All  might  yet  be  well;  justice 
tardily  done,  the  law  upheld;  the  intruder  removed 


338  THE  JUGGLER. 

from  the  sphere  where  he  had  occasioned  such 
woe,  and  the  old  sweet  days  of  love's  young  dream 
to  be  lived  anew. 

44 Fur  the  Marster's  sarvice,"  said  the  wily  hypo 
crite.  "I  sez  ter  myself, 4  Owen  Huines  won't  see 
the  right  tromped  on.  He  won't  see  the  ongodly 
flourish,  lit-  won't  •>»•<•  tht-  wolf  a-lopin'  through 
the  fold.  He  won't  hear  in  the  night  the  blood  o* 
Abel  rryin'  from  the  groun'  agin  the  guilty  Cain, 
an'  not  tell  the  sher'ff  what  air  no  furder  off,  jes' 
now,  'n  'Possum  Cross-Roads. ' ' 

44Why  don't  you-uns  let  him  know  yerse'f?" 
demanded  Haines  shortly. 

"Waal,  I  be  a-settin'  up  nights  with  my  sick 
nephews:  three  o'  them  chil'n  down  with  the 
measles,  an'  my  sister  an'  brother-in-law  bein'  so 
slack-twisted  I  be  'feared  they'd  gin  'em  the 
wrong  med'cine  ef  I  warn't  thai-  ter  gin  d'rec- 
tions."  His  eye  brightened  as  he  noted  Haines 
reaching  forward  for  the  end  of  the  stick  and 
slowly  drawing  the  bundle  toward  him. 

It  is  admitted  that  a  leopard  cannot  change  his 
spots,  and,  without  fear  of  successful  contradic 
tion,  one  may  venture  to  add  to  the  illustrations  of 
immutability  that  a  coward  cannot  change  his  tem 
perament.  Now  the  fact  that  Peter  Knowles  was 
a  coward  had  been  evinced  by  his  conduct  on 
several  occasions  within  the  observation  of  his  com 
patriots.  His  craft,  however,  had  served  to  adduce 
mitigating  circumstances,  and  so  consigned  the  mat 
ter  to  ol'livion  that  it  did  not  once  occur  to  Haines 


THE  JUGGLER.  339 

that  it  was  fear  which  had  evolved  the  subterfuge 
of  enlisting  his  well-known  enthusiasm  for  religion 
and  right,  and  his  natural  antagonism  against  the 
juggler,  in  the  Master's  service.  On  the  one  hand, 
Knowles  dreaded  being  called  to  account  for  what 
ever  else  might  be  found  unconsumed  by  the  lime 
in  the  grotto,  did  he  disclose  naught  of  his  dis 
covery.  On  the  other  hand,  the  character  of  in 
former  is  very  unpopular  in  the  mountains,  owing 
to  the  revelations  of  moonshining  often  elicited  by 
the  rewards  offered  for  the  detection  of  the  infringe 
ment  of  the  revenue  laws.  Persons  of  this  class 
indeed  sometimes  receive  a  recompense  in  another 
metal,  which,  if  not  so  satisfactory  as  current  coin, 
is  more  conclusive  and  lasting.  It  was  the  recollec 
tion  of  leaden  tribute  of  this  sort,  should  the  mat 
ter  prove  explicable,  or  the  man  escape,  or  the 
countryside  resent  the  appeal  to  the  law,  which 
induced  Peter  Knowles  to  desire  to  shift  upon 
Haines  the  active  responsibility  of  giving  informa 
tion:  his  jealousy  in  love  might  be  considered  a 
motive  adequate  to  bring  upon  him  all  the  retribu 
tions  of  the  recoil  of  the  scheme  if  aimed  amiss. 

Knowles  watched  the  young  man  narrowly  and 
with  a  glittering  eye  as,  with  a  trembling  hand  and 
a  look  averse,  Haines  began  to  untie  the  cord  which 
held  the  package  together. 

"He  killed  the  man,  Owen,  ez  sure  ez  ye  air 
livin',  an'  flunged  his  bones  in  the  quicklime,  an' 
now  he  flunged  in  his  clothes,"  Knowles  was  say 
ing  as  the  bundle  gave  loose  in  the  handling. 


340  THE  JUGGLER. 

Drawing  back  with  a  sense  of  suffocation  as  a 
cloud  of  minute  particles  of  quicklime  rose  from 
the  folds  of  the  material,  Owen  Haines  neverthe 
less  recognized  upon  the  instant  the  garments 
which  the  juggler  himself  had  worn  when  he  HIM 
came  to  the  Cove,  the  unaccustomed  fashion  of 
which  had  riveted  the  young  mountaineer's  atten 
tion  for  the  time  at  the  "show  "  at  tin-  church-house. 

With  a  certain  complex  duality  of  emotion,  he 
experienced  a  sense  of  dismay  to  note  how  his 
li<  art  sank  with  the  extinguishment  of  his  hope 
that  the  man  might  prove  a  criminal  and  that  this 
discovery  might  rid  the  country  of  him.  How  ill 
he  had  wished  him !  Not  only  that  the  fierce  blast 
of  the  law  might  consume  him,  but,  reaching  back 
into  the  past,  that  he  might  have  wrought  evil 
enough  to  justify  it  and  make  the  retribution  sure ! 
With  a  pang  as  of  sustaining  loss  he  gasped, 
"Why,  these  hyar  gyarinints  air  his  own  wear. 
I  hev  viewed  him  in  'em  many  a  time  whenst  he 
fust  kem  ter  the  Cove !  " 

Knowles  glared  at  him  in  startled  doubt,  and 
slowly  turned  over  one  of  the  pointed  russet  shoes. 
"He  hed  'em  on  the  night  he  gin  the  show  in  the 
Cove,"  said  Haines. 

"I  seen  him  that  night,"  said  Knowles  conclu 
sively.  "He  hed  on  no  sech  cur'ous  clothes  <>z 
them,  else  I  'd  hev  remarked  'em,  sure !  " 

"Ye  'lowed  't  war  nijjht  an'  by  the  flicker  o' 
the  fire,  an'  ye  war  in  a  cornsider'ble  o'  a  jigget 
'bout'n  yer  lime." 


THE  JUGGLER.  341 

"Naw,  sir!  naw,  sir!  he  hed  on  no  sech  coat  ez 
that,  ennyhow,"  protested  Knowles.  Then,  with 
rising  anger,  "Ye  air  a  pore  shoat  fur  sense,  Owen 
Haines !  Ef  they  air  his  gyarmints,  what 's  the 
reason  he  hid  'em  so  secret  an'  whar  the  quicklime 
would  deestroy  'em;  bein'  so  partic'lar  ter  ax  o' 
me  ef  'twould  burn  boots  an'  clothes  an'  bone,  — 
6o7ie,  too?" 

"I  dunno,"  said  Haines,  at  a  loss,  and  turning 
the  black-and-red  blazer  vaguely  in  his  hands. 

"I  do ;  them  folks  over  ter  New  Helveshy  wears 
sech  fool  gear  ez  these,"  Knowles  insisted,  from 
his  superior  knowledge,  for  in  the  interest  of  his 
lime-trade  he  had  visited  New  Helvetia  more  than 
once,  —  a  rare  trip  for  a  denizen  of  Etowah  Cove. 

"Thar  ain't  nobody  missin'  at  New  Helveshy!  " 
Haines  argued,  against  his  lingering  hope. 

"How  do  you-uns  know?"  exclaimed  Knowles 
hurriedly,  and  with  a  certain  alert  alarm  in  his 
face.  "Somebody  comin'  ez  never  got  thar! 
Somebody  goin'  ez  never  got  away ! "  He  had 
risen  excitedly  to  his  feet.  What  ghastly  secret 
might  be  hidden  beneath  the  residue  of  quicklime 
in  that  dark  cavern,  the  responsibility  possibly  to 
be  laid  at  his  door ! 

Owen  Haines,  looking  up  at  him  with  childlike 
eyes,  was  slowly  studying  his  face,  —  a  fierce  face, 
with  the  savagery  of  his  cowardice  as  predatory  an 
element  as  the  wantonness  of  his  malice. 

"These  hyar  air  his  clothes,"  Haines  reiterated; 
"I  'members  'em  well.  This  hyar  split  buttonhole 
at  the  throat "  — 


342  THE  JUGGLER. 

"That'swhar  he  clutched  the  murdered  one," 
declared  Knowles  tumultuously. 

—  "an'  these  water-marks  on  these  hyar  shoes, 

—  they  hed  been  soaked, — an'  this  hyar  leather 
belt,   whar  two  p'ints  hed  been   teched   through 
with  a  knife-blade,  stiddier  them  round  holes,  ter 
draw  the  belt  up  tighter  'n  it  war  made  ter  be 
wore,  —  I  could  swar  ter  'em,  —  an'  this  hyar  " 

Knowles  looked  down  at  him  in  angry  doubt. 
"Shucks,"  he  interrupted,  "ye  besotted  idjit!  I 
dunno  what  ailed  me  ter  kem  ter  you-uns.  I 
'lowed  ye  war  so  beset  ter  do  —  yer  —  Marster's 

—  work!  "  with  a  mocking  whine.     "But  ye  ain't. 
Ye  seek  yer  own  chance!     The   Lord  tied  yer 
tongue  with  a  purpose,  an'  he  wasted  no  brains 
on  a  critter  ez  he  didn't   'low  ter  hev  gabblin' 
round  the  throne.     Ye  see  ter  it  ye  say  nuthin' 
bout'n  this,  else  jestice  '11  take  arter  you-uns,  too, 
an'  ye  won't  be  much  abler  ter  talk  ter  the  court 
o'  law  'n  the  court  o'  the  Lawd."     He  wagged  his 
head  vehemently  at  the  young  man,  while  kneeling 
to  make  up  anew  the  bundle  of  garments,  until 
the  scorching  vapor  compelled  him  to  turn  aside. 
When  he  arose,  he  stood  erect  for  one  doubtful 
instant.     Then,  satisfied  by  the  reflection  that  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  antagonism  toward  the  juggler 
the  jealous  and  discarded  lover  would  do  naught 
to  frustrate  the  vengeance  that  menaced  Koyce,  he 
turned  suddenly,  and,  with  the  bundle  swaying  as 
before  on  the  end  of  the  stick,  started  without  a 
word  along  the  path  by  which  he  h:id  come,  leav- 


THE  JUGGLER.  343 

ing  Owen  Haines  gazing  after  him  till  he  disap 
peared  amongst  the  leaves. 

How  long  Haines  sat  there  staring  at  the  vanish 
ing  point  of  that  bosky  perspective  he  could  hardly 
have  said.  When  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  it  was 
with  a  repentant  sense  of  the  waste  of  time  and 
the  need  of  haste.  His  long,  lank,  slouching  fig 
ure  seemed  incompatible  with  any  but  the  most 
languid  rate  of  progression;  and  indeed  it  was  not 
his  habit  to  get  over  the  ground  at  the  pace  which 
he  now  set  for  himself.  This  was  hardly  slack 
ened  through  the  several  miles  he  traversed  until 
he  reached  the  schoolhouse,  which  he  found  silent 
and  empty.  After  a  wild-eyed  and  hurried  sur 
vey,  he  set  forth  anew,  tired,  breathless,  his  shoul 
ders  bent,  his  head  thrust  forward,  his  gait  un 
equal;  for  he  was  not  of  the  stalwart  physique 
common  amongst  the  youth  of  the  Cove.  He 
reached  the  Sims  cabin,  panting,  anxious-eyed, 
and  hardly  remembering  his  grievances  against 
Phemie  when  he  saw  her  in  the  passage.  She 
looked  at  him  askance  over  her  shoulder  as  she 
rose  in  silent  disdain  to  go  indoors. 

"I  ain't  kem  hyar  ter  plague  you-uns,  Phemie," 
he  called  out,  divining  her  interpretation  of  his 
motive.  "I  want  ter  speak  ter  that  thar  juggler- 
man," —  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  mention 
the  name. 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  he  perceived  in  sur 
prise  that  her  proud  and  scornful  face  bore  no 
tokens  of  happiness.  Her  lips  had  learned  a  pa- 


344  THE  JUGGLER. 

thetic  droop;  her  eyelids  were  heavy,  and  tin-  l«»n- 
lashes  lifted  barely  to  the  level  of  her  glance. 
The  words  in  a  low  voice,  "He  ain't  hyar,"  were 
as  if  wrung  from  her  by  the  necessity  of  the  mo 
ment,  so  unwilling  they  seemed,  and  she  entered 
the  house  as  Mrs.  Sims  flustered  out  of  the  oppo 
site  door. 

"Laws-a-massy,  Owen  Haines,"  she  exclaimed, 
"ye  better  lef  be  that  thar  juggler-man,  ez  ye 
calls  him !  He  could  throw  you-uns  over  his  shoul 
der.  Ye  '11  git  inter  trouble,  meddlin'.  Ph»'ini«- 
be  plumb  delighted  with  her  ch'ice,  an'  a  gal  In-v 
got  a  right  ter  make  a  ch'ice  wunst  in  her  life. 
ennyhows." 

He  sought  now  and  again  to  stem  the  tide  of 
her  words,  but  only  when  a  breathless  wheeze 
silenced  her  he  found  opportunity  to  protest  that 
he  meant  no  harm  to  the  juggler,  and  he  held  no 
grudge  against  Euphemia;  that  he  was  the  bearer 
of  intelligence  important  to  the  juggler,  and  she 
would  do  her  guest  a  favor  to  disclose  his  where 
abouts. 

There  were  several  added  creases  —  they  could 
hardly  be  called  wrinkles  —  in  Mrs.  Sims's  face  of 
late,  and  a  certain  fine  network  of  lines  had  been 
drawn  about  her  eyes.  She  was  anxious,  troubled, 
irritated,  all  at  once,  and  entertained  her  own 
views  touching  the  admission  of  the  fact  of  the 
juggler's  frequent  and  lengthened  absence  from 
his  beloved.  Euphemia's  fascinations  for  him 
were  evidently  on  the  wane,  and  although  he  was 


THE  JUGGLER.  345 

gentle  and  considerate  and  almost  humble  when 
he  was  at  the  house,  he  seemed  listless  and  melan 
choly,  and  had  grown  silent  and  unobservant,  and 
they  had  all  marked  the  change. 

"We-uns  kin  hardly  git  shet  o'  the  boy,"  said 
Mrs.  Sims  easily,  lying  in  an  able-bodied  fashion. 
"But  I  do  b'lieve  ter-day  ez  he  hev  tuk  heart  o' 
grace  an'  gone  a-huntin'." 

Owen  Raines's  countenance  fell.  Of  what  avail 
to  follow  at  haphazard  in  the  vastness  of  the  moun 
tain  wilderness  ?  There  was  naught  for  him  to  do 
but  return  to  his  work,  and  wait  till  nightfall 
might  bring  home  the  man  he  sought.  Meantime, 
the  sheriff  was  as  near  as  'Possum  Cross-Roads, 
only  twelve  miles  down  the  valley.  Peter  Knowles 
would  probably  give  the  information  which  he  had 
tried  to  depute  to  the  supplanted  lover.  Haines 
did  not  doubt  now  the  juggler's  innocence,  but 
he  appreciated  the  cruel  ingenuity  of  perverse  cir 
cumstances,  and  he  had  felt  the  venom  of  malice. 
Thus  it  was  that  he  had  sought  to  warn  the  man  of 
the  discovery  which  Peter  Knowles  had  made,  and 
of  the  very  serious  construction  he  was  disposed  to 
place  upon  the  facts. 


XIII. 

WHEN  this  crisis  supervened,  Lucien  Royce 
was  at  New  Helvetia  Springs,  at  the  bowling-alley. 
His  resolution  that  the  beautiful  girl,  whom  he 
had  learned  to  adore  at  a  distance,  should  never 
see  him  again  in  a  guise  so  unworthy  of  him,  of 
his  true  position  in  life,  and  of  his  antecedents, 
collapsed  one  day  in  an  incident  which  was  a 
satiric  comment  upon  its  importance.  He  met  her 
unexpectedly  in  the  mountain  woods,  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  Cove,  one  of  a  joyous  young 
equestrian  party,  and  riding  like  the  wind.  The 
plainness  of  the  black  habit,  the  hat,  the  high  close 
white  collar,  seemed  to  embellish  her  beauty,  in 
that  no  adornments  frivolously  diverted  the  atten 
tion  from  the  perfection  of  its  detail.  The  flush 
on  her  cheek,  the  light  in  her  eye,  the  lissome 
grace  of  her  slender  figure,  all  attested  a  breezy 
delight  in  the  swift  motion :  her  smile  shone  down 
upon  him  like  the  sudden  revelation  of  a  star  in 
the  midst  of  a  closing  cloud,  when  he  sprang  for 
ward  and  handed  her  the  whip  which  she  had 
dropped  at  the  moment  of  passing,  before  the 
cavalier  at  her  side  could  dismount  to  recover  it. 
A  polite  inclination  of  the  head,  a  murmur  of 
thanks,  a  broadside  of  those  absolutely  unrecogniz- 
ing  eyes,  and  she  was  gone. 


THE  JUGGLER.  347 

She  evidently  had  no  remembrance  of  him. 
His  alert  intuition  could  have  detected  it  in  her 
face  if  she  had.  For  her  he  had  no  existence. 
He  thought,  as  he  walked  on  into  the  silence  and 
the  wilderness,  of  his  resolution  and  his  self-denial, 
and  he  laughed  bitterly  at  the  futility  of  the  one 
and  the  pangs  of  the  other.  He  need  never  wince 
to  be  so  lowly  placed,  so  mean,  so  humble,  for  she 
never  thought  of  him.  He  need  not  fear  to  go 
near  her,  to  haunt,  like  the  ghost  he  was,  her 
ways  in  life,  for  she  would  never  look  at  him,  she 
would  never  realize  that  he  was  near;  for  most 
people  are  thus  insensible  of  spectral  influences. 

When  he  sat  for  the  first  time  on  a  bench 
against  the  wall,  by  the  door  of  the  bowling-alley, 
with  two  or  three  mountaineers  whose  lethargic 
curiosity  —  their  venison  or  peaches  having  been 
sold  —  was  excited  in  a  degree  by  the  spectacle  of 
the  game  of  tenpins,  he  had  much  ado  to  control 
the  agitation  that  beset  him,  the  pangs  of  humili 
ation.  But  after  this  day  he  came  often,  avail 
ing  himself  of  the  special  courtesy  observed  by 
the  players  in  providing  a  bench  for  the  moun 
taineers,  as  spectators,  who  were  indeed  never 
intrusive  or  out  of  place,  and  generally  of  most 
listless  and  uninterested  attitude  toward  the  freaks 
and  frivolities  of  New  Helvetia.  This  attention 
seemed  a  gracious  and  kindly  condescension,  and 
flattered  a  conscious  sentiment  of  noblesse  oblige. 
There  were  other  spectators,  of  better  quality,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  long  low  building,  —  the 


348  THE  JUGGLU: 

elders  among  the  sojourners  at  New  Helvetia 
Springs,  —  while  down  the  centre,  between  the 
two  alleys,  were  the  benches  on  which  the  players 
were  ranged. 

She  was  sometimes  among  these,  always  grace 
ful  and  girlish,  with  a  look  of  innocence  in  her 
eyes  like  some  sweet  child's,  and  wearing  her  youth 
and  beauty  like  a  crown,  with  that  unique  touch 
of  dignity  suggestive  of  a  splendid  future  <1. -\elop- 
ment,  and  that  these  days,  lovely  though  they 
might  be,  were  not  destined  to  be  her  best.  One 
might  have  pitied  the  hot  envy  he  felt  toward  the 
youths  who  handed  her  the  balls  and  applauded 
her  play,  and  hung  about  near  her,  and  chatted  in 
the  intervals,  —  so  foolish,  so  hopeless,  so  bitter 
it  was.  Sometimes  he  heard  her  responses :  little 
of  note,  the  talk  of  a  girl  of  his  day  and  \\nrld, 
but  animated  with  a  sort  of  individuality,  a  some 
thing  like  herself,  — or  did  he  fancy  it  was  like  no 
one  else?  He  had  met  his  fate  too  late;  this  was 
the  one  woman  in  all  the  world  for  him.  She 
could  have  made  of  him  anything  she  would.  His 
heart  stirred  with  a  vague  impulse  of  reminiscent 
ambitions  that  might  have  been  facts  had  she  come 
earlier.  He  loved  her,  and  he  felt  that  never  be 
fore  had  he  loved.  '  The  slight  spurious  evanescent 
emotion,  evoked  from  idleness  or  folly  or  caprice, 
in  sundry  remembered  episodes  of  his  old  world, 
or  evolved  in  the  desert  of  his  loneliness  for  Eu- 
phemia,  —  how  vain,  how  unreal,  how  ephemeral. 
how  unjust itied!  But  she  who  would  have  been 


THE  JUGGLER.  349 

the  supreme  power  in  his  life  had  come  at  last  — 
and  had  come  too  late.  How  truly  he  reasoned  he 
knew  well,  as  he  sat  in  his  humble  garb  amongst 
his  uncouth  associates  on  the  segregated  bench, 
and  heard  the  thunder  of  the  balls  and  the  swift 
steps  of  the  lightly  passing  figures  at  the  head  of 
the  alley ;  but  surely  he  should  not  have  been  ca 
pable  of  an  added  pang  when  he  discerned,  with  a 
sense  almost  as  impersonal  as  if  he  were  indeed 
the  immaterial  essence  he  claimed  to  be,  her  fate 
in  the  identity  of  a  lately  arrived  guest.  This  was 
a  man  of  middle  height  and  slender,  about  thirty- 
five  years  of  age,  with  a  slight  bald  spot  on  the 
top  of  his  well -shaped  head.  He  had  a  keen  nar 
row  face,  an  inexpressive  calm  manner,  and  was 
evidently  a  personage  of  weight  in  the  world  of 
men,  sustaining  a  high  social  and  financial  consid 
eration.  He  did  not  take  part  in  the  game.  He 
leaned  against  a  pillar  near  her,  and  bent  over 
her,  and  talked  to  her  in  the  intervals  of  her 
play.  He  had  apparently  little  affinity  for  youth 
ful  amusements,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  with 
her  parents.  His  mission  here  was  most  undis 
guised,  and  it  seemed  to  the  poor  juggler  that 
the  fortunate  suitor  was  but  a  personified  conven 
tionality,  whom  no  woman  could  truly  love,  and 
who  could  truly  love  no  woman. 

When  once  Royce  had  acquired  the  sense  of 
invisibility,  he  put  no  curb  on  his  poor  and  humble 
cravings  to  see  her,  to  hear  the  sound  of  her  voice 
albeit  she  spoke  only  to  others.  Every  day  found 


350  THE  JUGGLER. 

him  on  the  mountaineers'  bench  at  the  bowling- 
alley,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  in  grotesque 
company,  the  ridicule,  he  knew,  of  the  young  and 
thoughtless;  and  he  had  no  care  if  he  were  ridi 
culed  too.  Sometimes  she  came,  and  he  was 
drearily  happy.  Frequently  she  was  absent,  and 
in  dull  despair  he  sat  and  dreamed  of  her  till  the 
game  was  done.  He  grew  to  love  the  inanimate 
things  she  touched,  the  dress  she  wore;  he  even 
loved  best  that  which  she  wore  most  often,  and  his 
heart  lightened  whenever  he  recognized  it,  as  if  the 
sight  of  it  were  some  boon  of  fate,  and  their  com 
mon  preference  for  it  a  bond  of  sympathy.  Once 
she  came  in  late  from  a  walk  in  the  woods,  wearing 
white,  with  a  purple  cluster  of  the  wild  verbena  at 
her  bosom.  There  was  a  blossom  lying  upon  the 
floor  after  the  people  were  all  gone.  He  saw  it  as 
it  slipped  down,  and  he  waited,  and  then,  in  the 
absolute  solitude,  with  a  furtive  gesture  he  pickcil 
it  up,  and  after  that  he  always  wore  it,  folded  in 
a  bit  of  paper,  over  his  heart. 

In  the  midst  of  this  absorbing  emotion  Lucien 
Royce  did  not  feel  the  pangs  of  supplantation  till 
the  fact  had  been  repeatedly  driven  home.  When, 
returning  from  New  Helvetia,  he  would  find  Jack 
Ormsby  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  cabin  porch, 
talking  to  Euphemia,  he  welcomed  as  a  relief  the 
opportunity  to  betake  himself  and  his  bitter  brood 
ing  thoughts  down  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where 
he  was  wont  to  walk  to  and  fro  under  the  white 
stars,  heedless  of  the  joyous  voices  floating  down 


THE  JUGGLER.  351 

to  him,  deaf  to  all  save  the  inflections  of  a  voice 
in  his  memory.  He  began  gradually  to  note  with 
a  dull  surprise  Euphemia's  scant,  overlooking 
glance  when  her  eyes  must  needs  turn  toward  him ; 
her  indifferent  manner,  —  even  averse,  it  might 
seem;  her  disaffected  languor  save  when  Jack 
Ormsby's  shadow  fell  athwart  the  door.  In  some 
sort  Royce  had  grown  obtuse  to  all  except  the  sen 
timent  that  enthralled  him.  Under  normal  cir 
cumstances  he  would  have  detected  instantly  the 
flimsy  pretense  with  which  she  sought  to  stimulate 
his  jealousy,  to  restore  his  allegiance,  to  sustain 
her  pride.  She  had  not  dreamed  that  her  hold 
upon  his  heart,  gained  only  by  reason  of  his  lone 
liness  and  despair  and  the  distastefulness  of  his 
surroundings,  had  slackened  the  instant  a  deep 
and  real  love  took  possession  of  him.  She  had 
not  divined  this  hopeless,  silent  love  —  from  afar, 
from  infinite  lengths  of  despair !  —  for  another. 
She  only  knew  that  somehow  he  had  grown  obliv 
ious  of  her,  and  was  much  absent  from  her.  This 
touched  her  pride,  her  fatal  pride !  And  thus  she 
played  off  Jack  Ormsby  against  him  as  best  she 
might,  and  held  her  head  very  high. 

The  sense  of  desertion  inflicted  upon  him  only 
a  dull  pain.  He  said  listlessly  to  himself,  his 
pride  untouched,  that  she  had  not  really  loved 
him,  that  she  had  been  merely  fascinated  for  a 
time  by  the  novelty  of  the  "readin's,"  and  now 
she  cared  for  them  and  him  no  more.  He  recalled 
the  readiness  with  which  she  had  forsworn  her 


352  /•///: 

earlier  lover,  when  his  conscience  had  conflict. •<! 
with  her  pride,  and  this  seeming  fickleness  was 
accented,  anew  in  the  later  change.  Royce  tacitly 
acquiesced  in  it,  no  longer  struggling  as  he  had 
done  at  first  with  a  sense  of  loyalty  to  her,  but 
giving  himself  up  to  his  lioj^less  dream,  precious 
even  in  its  conscious  futility. 

How  long  this  quiescent  state  might  have  proved 
more  pleasure  than  pain  it  is  hard  to  say.  Then- 
suddenly  came  into  its  melancholy  serenities  a  wild 
tumult  of  uncertainty,  a  mad  project,  a  patent 
possibility  that  set  his  brain  on  fire  and  his  heart 
plunging.  He  argued  within  himself  —  with  some 
doubting,  denying,  forbidding  instinct  of  self- 
immolation,  as  it  seemed,  that  had  somehow  at 
tained  full  control  of  him  in  these  days  —  that  in 
one  sense  he  was  fully  the  equal  of  Miss  Fordyce, 
as  well  born,  as  well  bred,  as  she,  as  can-fully 
trained  in  all  the  essentials  that  regulate  polite 
society.  She  would  sustain  no  derogation  if  he 
could  contrive  an  entrance  to  her  social  circle,  and 
meet  her  there  as  an  equal.  He  had  overheard  in 
the  fragmentary  gossip  mention  of  people  in  New 
Orleans,  familiars  of  her  circle,  to  whom  he  was 
well  known.  He  did  not  doubt  that  his  father's 
name  and  standing  would  be  in>tantly  recognized 
by  her  father,  Judge  Archibald  Fordyce,  —  the 
sojourners  at  New  Helvetia  were  identifiable  to 
him  now,  — or  indeed  by  any  man  of  consequence 
of  that  gentleman's  acquaintance.  Under  normal 
circumstances  the  formality  of  an  introduction 


THE  JUGGLER.  353 

would  be  a  matter  of  course.  If  she  had  chanced 
to  spend  a  winter  in  St.  Louis,  Royce  would  doubt 
less  have  danced  with  her  on  a  dozen  different 
occasions;  he  wondered  blankly  if  he  would  then 
have  adequately  valued  the  privilege !  He  felt  now 
that  he  would  give  his  life  for  a  touch  of  her  hand, 
a  look  of  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him  observingly; 
how  the  utter  neutrality  of  her  glance  hurt  him ! 
He  would  give  his  soul  for  the  bliss  of  one  waltz. 
He  trembled  as  he  realized  how  possible,  how 
easily  and  obviously  practicable,  this  had  be 
come. 

For  the  tableaux  and  fancy-dress  ball  had  been 
so  relished  by  the  more  juvenile  element  of  New 
Helvetia  that  the  successor  of  that  festivity  was 
already  projected.  This  was  to  be  a  grotesquerie 
in  calico  costumes  and  masks,  chiefly  of  facetious 
characters.  The  masks  were  deemed  essential  by 
the  small  designers  of  the  entertainment,  since  the 
secret  of  the  various  disguises  had  not  been  care 
fully  kept,  and  these  vizards  were  ingenuously 
relied  on  to  protect  the  incognito  of  certain  per 
sonages  garbed,  with  the  aid  of  sympathetic  elders, 
as  Dolly  Varden,  Tilly  Slowboy(with  a  rag-doll 
baby  furnished  with  a  head  proof  against  banging 
on  door-frames  or  elbows),  Sir  John  Falstaff,  three 
feet  high,  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  similar  celebrities. 
The  whole  affair  was  esteemed  a  tedious  super 
fluity  by  the  youths  of  twenty  and  a  few  years 
upward,  already  a  trifle  blase,  who  sometimes  lin 
gered  and  talked  and  smoked  in  the  bowling-alley 


354  THE  JUGGLER. 

after  the  game  was  finished  and  the  ladies  had 
gone.  It  was  from  overhearing  this  chat  that 
Royce  learned  that  although  the  majority  of  the 
young  fellows,  tired  with  one  effort  of  devising 
costumes,  had  declined  to  go  in  calico  and  in 
character,  still,  in  deference  to  the  style  of  the 
entertainment  and  the  importunity  of  the  children 
who  had  projected  it,  they  had  agreed  to  attend 
in  mask.  Their  out-of-door  attire  of  knicker 
bockers  and  flannel  shirts  and  blazers  ought  to  be 
deemed,  they  thought,  shabby  enough  to  appease 
the  "tacky"  requirements  of  the  juvenile  man 
agers,  who  were  pleased  to  call  their  burlesque 
masquerade  a  "tacky  party." 

Then  it  was  that  Royce  realized  his  opportunity. 
The  knickerbockers  and  flannel  shirt,  the  red-and- 
black  blazer  and  russet  shoes,  in  which  he  had 
entered  Etowah  Cove,  now  stowed  away  in  the 
roof-room  of  Tubal  Cain  Sims's  house,  were  not 
more  the  worse  for  wear  than  much  of  such  attire 
at  New  Helvetia  Springs  after  a  few  weeks  of 
mountain  rambles.  Ten  minutes  in  the  barber 
shop  of  the  hotel,  at  a  late  hour  when  it  would  be 
deserted  by  its  ordinary  patrons,  would  put  him 
in  trim  for  the  occasion,  and  doubtless  its  function 
aries  who  had  never  seen  him  would  fancy  him  in 
this  dress  a  newly  arrived  guest  of  the  hotel  or  of 
some  of  the  New  Helvetia  summer  cottagers.  He 
had  even  a  prevision  of  the  free  and  casual  gesture 
with  which  he  would  hand  an  attendant  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  and  send  across  the  road  to  the  store 


THE  JUGGLER.  355 

for  a  mask.  And  then  —  and  then  —  he  could  feel 
already  the  rhythm  of  the  waltz  music  beating  in 
every  pulse;  he  breathed  even  now  the  breeze 
quickening  in  the  motion  of  the  dance,  endowed 
with  the  sweetness  of  the  zephyrs  of  the  seventh 
heaven.  It  was  she  —  she  alone  —  whom  he  would 
care  to  approach ;  the  rest,  they  were  as  naught ! 
One  touch  of  her  hand,  the  rapture  of  one  waltz, 
and  he  would  be  ready  to  throw  himself  over  the 
bluff;  for  he  would  have  attained  the  uttermost 
happiness  that  earth  could  bestow  upon  him  now. 

And  suddenly  he  was  ready  to  throw  himself 
over  the  bluff  that  he  should  even  have  dreamed 
this  dream.  For  all  that  his  pulses  still  beat  to 
the  throb  of  that  mute  strain,  that  his  eyes  were 
alight  with  an  unrealized  joy,  that  the  half  quiver, 
half  smile  of  a  visionary  expectation  lingered  at 
his  lips,  the  red  rush  of  indignant  humiliation 
covered  his  face  and  tingled  to  the  very  tips  of  his 
fingers.  He  was  far  on  the  road  between  the  Cove 
and  the  Springs,  and  he  paused  in  the  solitude 
that  he  might  analyze  this  thing,  and  see  where 
he  stood  and  whither  he  was  tending.  He,  of  all 
men  in  the  world,  an  intruder,  a  partaker  of  plea 
sures  designed  exclusively  for  others !  He  to  wear 
a  mask  where  he  might  not  dare  to  show  his  face ! 
He  to  scheme  to  secure  from  her,  —  from  her  !  - 
through  false  pretenses,  under  the  mistake  that  he 
was  another,  a  notice,  a  word,  chance  phrases,  the 
touch  of  her  confiding  hand,  the  ecstasy  of  a  waltz ! 
He  had  no  words  for  himself ! 


356  THE  JUGGLER. 

He  was  an  exile  and  penniless.  He  had  no 
identity.  He  could  reveal  himself  only  to  be 
falsely  suspected  of  a  vile  robbery  in  a  position  of 
great  trust;  any  lapse  of  caution  would  consign 
him  to  years  of  unjust  imprisonment  in  a  felon's 
cell.  He  was  the  very  sport  of  a  cruel  fate.  He 
had  naught  left  of  all  the  lavish  earthly  endow 
ments  with  which  he  had  brgun  life  save  his  own 
estimate  of  his  own  sense  of  honor.  But  this  was 
still  precious  to  him.  Bereft  as  he  was,  he  was 
still  a  gentleman  at  heart.  He  claimed  that,  —  he 
demanded  of  himself  his  own  recognition  as  such. 
Never  again,  he  determined,  as  be  began  to  walk 
slowly  along  the  road  once  more,  never  again 
should  expert  sophistries  tempt  him.  He  would 
not  argue  his  equality  with  her,  his  birth,  his  rdu- 
cation,  the  social  position  of  his  people.  It  was 
enough  to  reflect  that  if  she  knew  all  she  would 
shrink  from  him.  He  would  not  again  seek  refuge 
in  the  impossibility  that  his  identity  could  In-  di-- 
covered  as  a  guest  at  the  ball.  He  would  not 
plead  as  a  set-off  against  the  deception  how  in 
nocent  its  intention,  how  transient,  how  venial  a 
thing  it  was.  And  lest  in  his  loneliness,  —  for 
since  the  atmosphere  of  his  old  world  had  once 
more  inflated  his  lungs  he  was  as  isolated  in  the 
Sims  household,  he  found  its  air  as  hard  to  breathe, 
as  if  he  were  in  an  exhausted  receiver, — in  his 
despair,  in  the  hardship  of  his  lot.  in  the  deep 
misery  of  the  first  true,  earnest,  and  utterly  hope 
less  love  of  his  life,  some  fever  of  wild  enterprise 


THE  JUGGLER.  357 

should  rise  like  a  delirium  in  his  brain,  and  con 
fuse  his  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  palsy  his 
capacity  for  resistance,  and  counsel  disguise,  and 
destroy  his  reverent  appreciation  of  what  was  due 
to  her,  he  would  put  it  beyond  his  power  ever  to 
masquerade  in  the  likeness  of  his  own  self  and  the 
status  of  his  own  true  position  in  the  world;  he 
would  render  it  necessary  that  he  should  always 
appear  before  her  in  the  absolutely  false  and  con 
temptible  role  of  a  country  boor,  an  uncouth,  un 
lettered  clown. 

At  the  paradox  of  this  conclusion  he  burst  into 
a  grim  laugh ;  then  —  for  he  would  no  longer  med 
dle  with  these  subtle  distinctions  of  right  and 
wrong,  where,  in  the  metamorphoses  of  deduction, 
the  false  became  true,  and  interchangeably  the 
true  was  false  —  he  began  to  run,  and  in  the  strong 
vivacity  of  his  pride  in  his  physical  prowess  he 
was  able  to  reflect  that  better  time  was  seldom 
made  by  an  amateur,  unless  for  a  short  spurt, 
than  the  pace  he  kept  all  the  way  to  the  Sims 
cabin.  He  would  not  let  himself  think  while  in 
the  roof-room  he  rolled  the  jaunty  suit  into  a  bun 
dle.  He  set  his  teeth  and  breathed  hard  as  he 
recognized  a  certain  pleasure  which  his  finger-tips 
derived  from  the  very  touch  of  the  soft,  fine  tex 
ture  of  the  cloth,  and  realized  how  tenuous  was 
the  quality  of  his  resolution,  how  quick  he  must 
needs  be  to  carry  into  effect  the  conclusions  of  his 
sober  judgment,  lest  he  waver  anew.  He  was  out 
again  and  a  mile  away  before  he  began  to  debate 


358  THE  JUGGLER. 

the  disposition  which  it  would  be  best  to  make  of 
the  bundle  under  his  ami.  He  n-calh d  with  a 
momentary  regret  Mrs.  Sims's  kitchen  fire,  <>\. T 
which  doubtless  Euphcmia  was  now  bending,  busy 
with  the  johnny-cake  for  the  evening  meal.  He 
dismissed  the  thought  on  the  instant.  The  femi 
nine  ideas  of  economy  would  never  suffer  the  de 
struction  of  so  much  good  all-wool  gear,  whatever 
its  rescue  might  cost  in  the  future.  Moreover,  it 
would  be  inexplicable.  He  could  get  a  spade  and 
bury  the  bundle,  —  and  dig  it  up,  too,  the  next 
time  this  mad,  unworthy  temptation  should  a^ail 
him.  He  could  throw  it  into  the  river,  — and  tish 
it  out  again. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  the  lime-kiln.  The 
greater  portion  of  its  product  had  been  used  long 
ago,  but  the  residue  still  lay  unslaked  in  the  dry 
cavern,  and  more  than  once,  in  passing,  he  had 
noted  the  great  boulder  rolled  to  the  aperture 
and  securely  closing  it  against  the  entrance  of  air 
and  moisture.  The  place  was  in  the  immediate 
vicinity,  and  somehow,  although  he  had  been  here 
often  since,  the  predominant  impression  in  his 
mind,  when  he  reached  the  jutting  promontory  of 
rock  and  gazed  down  at  the  sea  of  foliage  in  the 
Cove,  that  surely  had  once  known  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  tides  other  than  the  spring  bourgeonings  and 
the  autumn  desiccations,  was  the  reminiscence  of 
that  early  time  in  Etowah  Cove  when  he  had  stood 
here  in  the  white  glare  from  the  lime-kiln  and 
watched  that  strange  anamorphosis  of  the  lime- 


THE  JUGGLER.  359 

burner's  face  through  the  shimmering  medium  of 
the  uprising  heat.  He  seemed  to  see  it  again,  — 
all  unaware  that  now,  in  its  normal  proportions, 
that  face  looked  down  upon  him  from  the  height 
of  the  cliff  above,  although  its  fright,  its  sur 
prise,  its  crafty  intimations,  its  malevolence,  dis 
torted  it  hardly  less  than  the  strange  effects  of 
the  writhing  currents  of  heat  and  air  in  that  dark 
night  so  long  ago. 

The  young  man  hesitated  once  more.  He  had 
a  certain  conscientious  reverence  for  property  and 
order;  it  was  with  a  distinct  wrench  of  volition 
that  he  would  destroy  aught  of  even  small  value. 
But  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  ledge,  shaking  out 
the  natty  black-and-red  blazer,  he  recognized  the 
melody  that  was  mechanically  murmuring  through 
his  lips,  —  again,  still  again,  the  measures  of  a 
waltz,  that  waltz  through  whose  enchanted  rhythms 
he  had  fancied  that  he  and  she  might  dreamily  drift 
together.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  in  a  panic.  With 
one  mighty  effort  he  flung  the  great  boulder  aside. 
Hastily  he  dropped  the  garments  with  the  shoes, 
belt,  and  long  blue  hose,  into  the  cavern,  and  with 
a  staff  stirred  the  depths  of  the  lime  till  it  rose 
above  them.  More  than  once  he  was  fain  to  step 
back  from  the  scorching  air  and  the  smarting  white 
powder  that  came  in  puffs  from  the  interior. 

"That 's  enough,"  he  muttered  mockingly  after 
a  moment,  as  he  stood  with  his  muscles  relaxed, 
sick  with  the  sentiment  of  the  renunciation  of  the 
world  which  the  demolition  of  the  sophisticated 


THE  JUGGLKR. 

garb  included  in  its  significance.  "I  cannot  un 
dertake  to  dance  with  any  fine  lady  in  this  tog 
gery  now;  she  'd  think  I  had  come  straight  from 
hell.  And,"  with  a  swift  change  of  countenance, 
"so  I  have!  —  so  I  have!" 

Then,  with  his  habitual  carefulness  where  any 
commercial  interest,  however  small,  was  concerned, 
he  roused  himself,  wrenched  the  great  boulder 
back  into  its  place,  noting  here  and  there  a  crev 
ice,  and  filling  it  with  smaller  stones  and  earth 
that  no  air  might  gain  admi*>ion :  and,  with  one 
final  close  scrutiny  of  the  entrance,  he  took  his  way 
into  the  dense  laurel  and  the  gathering  dusk,  all 
unaware  of  the  peering,  suspicious,  frightened  face 
and  angry  eyes  that  watched  him  from  the  summit 
of  the  cliff  above. 

The  discipline  of  life  had  certain  subduing  effects 
on  Lucien  Royce.  He  felt  very  much  tamed  wh.  n 
next  he  took  a  seat  upon  the  bench  placed  aside  in 
the  corner  of  the  bowling-alley,  to  affect  to  watch 
the  game,  but  in  truth  to  give  his  humble  despair 
what  added  pain  it  might  deem  pleasure  and  clutch 
as  solace,  by  the  sight  of  her  smiles  won  by  hap 
pier  men,  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  meagre  reali 
ties  of  the  day  to  supplement  the  lavish  and  fan 
tastic  visions  of  his  dreams.  He  had  reached  the 
point  where  expectation  fails.  He  looked  only  for 
the  eventless  routine  of  the  alley,  —  the  hour  of 
amusement  for  the  others,  the  lingering  separation, 
the  silence  of  the  deserted  Ituililing,  and  the  living 
on  the  recollection  of  a  glance  of  the  eye,  a  turn 


THE  JUGGLER.  361 

of  the  head,  a  displaced  tendril  of  hair,  softly 
curling,  until  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  or  the 
next,  should  give  him  the  precious  privilege  of 
making  such  observations  for  the  sustenance  of  his 
soul  through  another  interval  of  absence.  Sud 
denly,  his  heart,  dully  beating  on  through  these 
dreary  days,  began  to  throb  wildly,  and  he  gazed 
with  quickening  interest  at  the  scene  before  him : 
the  long  narrow  shell  of  a  building  with  the  fre 
quent  windows  where  the  green  leaves  looked  in, 
the  brown  unplastered  walls,  the  dark  rafters  ris 
ing  into  the  shadowy  roof,  and  the  crossing  of  the 
great  beams  into  which  records  of  phenomenal 
successions  of  ten  strikes  had  been  cut  by  the 
vaunting  winners  of  matches,  with  their  names 
and  the  dates  of  the  event,  the  year  of  the  Lord 
methodically  affixed,  as  if  these  deeds  were  such 
as  were  to  be  cherished  by  posterity.  Down  the 
smooth  and  shining  alley  a  ball  was  rolling.  Miss 
Gertrude  Fordyce,  wearing  a  sheer  green-and- 
white  dress  of  simple  lawn  and  a  broad  hat  trimmed 
with  ferns,  was  standing  at  the  head  of  the  alley, 
about  to  receive  her  second  ball  from  the  hands  of 
a  blond  young  cavalier  in  white  flannels.  Royce 
had  seen  him  often  since  the  morning  when  he  had 
observed  him  giving  his  valuable  advice  as  to  the 
erection  of  the  stage  in  the  ballroom,  and  knew 
that  he  was  Millden  Seymour,  just  admitted  to  the 
bar,  with  a  reputation  for  talent,  an  intelligent 
face,  and  a  smooth  and  polished  bonhomie  of  man 
ner  ;  he  was  given  to  witty  sayings,  and  was  a  little 


362  Tut: 

too  intent  upon  the  one  he  was  exploiting  at  this 
moment  to  notice  that  the  pins  at  the  further  end 
of  the  alley  had  not  been  set  up,  the  hotel  func 
tionary  detailed  for  that  duty  not  having  arrival. 
Miss  Fordyce  hesitated,  with  the  ball  in  her  hand, 
in  momentary  embarrassment,  the  color  in  her 
cheeks  and  a  laugh  in  her  eyes. 

Royce  sprang  up,  and  running  lightly  down  by 
the  side  of  the  alley  placed  the  pins  in  readiness 
to  receive  her  second  ball;  then  stood  soberly 
aside,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  as  if  to  watch  the  execu 
tion  of  the  missile. 

"How  very  polite!"  said  one  of  the  chaperons 
over  her  knitting  to  another.  "I  often  notice 
that  young  man.  He  seems  to  take  so  much  inter 
est  in  the  game." 

This  trifling  devoir,  however,  which  Royce  had 
not  hesitated  to  offer  to  a  lady,  savored  of  servility 
in  its  appropriation  by  a  man.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  far  too  discreet,  too  well  aware  of  what  was 
due  to  Miss  Fordyce,  to  allow  the  attention  to  seem 
a  personal  tribute  from  him.  He  silently  cursed 
his  of&ciousness,  notwithstanding,  as  he  bent  down 
to  set  the  tenpins  in  place  for  the  second  player, 
who  happened  to  be  the  smart  young  cavalier. 
Only  with  an  effort  Royce  conserved  his  blithe  air 
and  a  certain  amiable  alacrity  as  through  a  round 
or  two  of  the  game  he  continued  to  set  up  the  pins ; 
but  when  the  flustered  and  hurried  bell-boy  whose 
duty  he  had  performed  came  panting  in,  Royce 
could  have  broken  the  recreant's  head  \\ith  right 


THE  JUGGLER.  363 

good  will,  and  would  not  restrain  a  tendency  to 
relapse  into  his  old  gait  and  pose,  which  had  no 
savor  of  meekness,  as  he  sauntered  up  the  side  of 
the  alley  to  his  former  seat  beside  the  mountain 
eers,  who  had  gazed  stolidly  at  his  performance. 

Royce  noted  that  one  or  two  of  the  more  athletic 
of  the  young  men  had  followed  his  movements  with 
attention.  "Confound  you!"  he  said  to  himself 
irritably.  "  I  am  man  enough  to  throw  you  over 
that  beam,  and  you  are  hardly  so  stupid  as  to  fail 
to  know  it." 

Miss  Fordyce  had  not  turned  her  eyes  toward 
him,  —  no  more,  he  said  to  himself,  than  if  he  had 
been  the  side  of  the  wall.  And  notwithstanding 
the  insignia  of  civilization  thrust  out  of  sight  into 
the  quicklime  and  the  significance  of  their  destruc 
tion,  and  the  flagellant  anguish  of  the  discipline 
of  hopelessness  and  humiliation,  he  felt  this  as  a 
burning  injustice  and  grief,  and  the  next  instant 
asked  himself  in  disdain  what  could  such  a  man 
gain  if  she  should  look  at  him  in  his  lowly  and 
humble  estate? 

Royce  brooded  gloomily  upon  these  ideas  during 
the  rest  of  the  game;  and  when  the  crowd  had 
departed,  and  he  had  risen  to  take  leave  of  the 
scene  that  he  lived  by,  he  noticed,  with  only  the 
sense  that  his  way  was  blocked,  several  of  the 
young  men  lingering  about  the  door.  They  had 
been  glancing  at  him,  and  as  one  of  them,  —  it 
was  Seymour,  —  in  a  very  propitiatory  manner, 
approached  him,  he  became  suddenly  aware  that 


:\C>\  THE   JUGGLER. 

they  had  been  discussing  the  appropriateness  of 
offering  him  a  gratuity  for  setting  up  the  tenpins 
in  the  heat  and  dust  while  they  played.  Seymour 
was  holding  out  their  joint  contributions  in  his 
hand;  but  his  affability  was  petrified  upon  his 
countenance  as  his  mild  eyes  caught  the  fiery 
glance  which  Royce  flung  at  the  group,  and  marked 
the  furious  flush  which  suffused  neck  and  face  and 
ears  as  he  realized  their  intention.  It  was  a  mo 
ment  of  mutual  embarrassment.  They  meant  no 
offense,  and  he  knew  it.  Had  he  been  what  he 
seemed,  it  would  have  been  shabby  in  the  last 
degree  to  accept  such  timely  offices  with  no  tender 
of  remuneration.  Royce's  ready  tact  served  to 
slacken  the  tension. 

"Here,"  he  said  abruptly,  but  despite  his  easy 
manner  his  voice  trembled,  "let  me  show  you 
something." 

He  took  a  silver  quarter  of  a  dollar  from  the 
handful  of  small  change  still  mechanically  ex 
tended,  and,  turning  to  a  table  which  held  a  tray 
with  glasses,  he  played  the  trick  with  the  golilt  t 
and  the  bit  of  money  that  had  interested  the 
captain  of  the  ill-fated  steamboat  on  the  night 
when  Lucien  Royce  perished  so  miserably  to  the 
world.  It  was  with  a  good-natured  feigning  of 
interest  that  the  young  men  pressed  round,  at  first, 
all  willing  to  aid  the  salving  of  the  honest  pride 
which  their  offering  had  evidently  so  lacerated. 
But  this  gave  way  to  an  excitement  that  had  rarely 
been  paralleled  at  New  Helvetia  Springs,  as  feat 


THE  JUGGLER.  365 

succeeded  feat.  The  juggler  was  soon  eager  to 
get  away,  having  served  his  purpose  of  eluding 
their  bounty,  but  this  was  more  difficult  than  he 
had  anticipated.  He  feared  troublesome  questions, 
but  beyond  a  "  Say,  how  in  thunder  did  you  learn 
all  this?"  there  were  none;  and  the  laconic  re 
sponse,  "From  a  traveling  fellow,"  seemed  to  allay 
their  curiosity. 

After  a  little  he  forgot  their  ill-starred  benevo 
lence  ;  his  spirits  expanded  in  this  youthful  society, 
the  tone  of  which  was  native  to  him,  and  from 
which  he  had  long  been  an  outcast.  He  began  to 
reflect  subacutely  that  the  idea  of  a  fugitive  from 
justice  would  not  occur  to  men  of  their  social  posi 
tion  so  readily  as  to  the  mountaineers,  who  were 
of  a  more  restricted  field  of  speculation  and  limited 
knowledge  of  the  world.  He  might  seem  to  these 
summer  sojourners,  perhaps,  a  man  educated  be 
yond  his  prospects  in  life  and  his  station,  and 
ashamed  of  both;  such  types  are  not  altogether 
unknown.  Or  perhaps  he  might  be  rusticating 
in  this  humble  fashion,  being  a  person  of  small 
means,  or  a  man  with  some  malady,  attracted  here 
like  others  in  search  of  health,  but  of  a  lower 
grade  of  society.  "For  they  tell  me,"  he  said 
satirically  to  himself,  "that  such  people  have  lungs 
and  livers  like  the  best  of  us!"  He  might  be  a 
native  touched  by  some  unhallowed  ambition,  and, 
having  tried  his  luck  in  the  outer  world,  flung 
back  upon  his  despised  beginnings  and  out  of  a 
job.  He  might  be  the  schoolmaster  in  the  Cove, 


366  THE   JUGGLER. 

of  a  vastly  higher  grade  than  the  native  product, 
doubtless,  but  these  younir  fellows  were  unint< T- 
ested  and  unobservant,  and  hardly  likely  to  evolve 
accurate  distinctions.  He  felt  MIK-  that  the  idea 
of  crime  would  occur  to  these  gay  butterflies  the 
most  remotely  of  all  the  possible  solutions  of  the 
anomalies  of  his  presence  and  his  garb.  He  beiran 
to  give  himself  up  unconsciously  to  the  mild  plea 
sure  of  their  association;  their  chatter,  incongru 
ously  enough,  revived  his  energies  and  solaced 
his  feelings  like  some  suave  balm.  But  he  experi 
enced  a  quick  repulsion  and  a  start  of  secret  terror 
when  two  or  three,  having  consulted  apart  for  a 
few  moments,  joined  the  group  again,  and  called 
upon  him  to  admire  their  "cheek,"  as  they  phrased 
it,  in  the  proposition  they  were  about  to  make,  — 
no  less  than  that  he  should  consent  to  perform 
some  of  his  wonderful  feats  of  sleight  of  hand  at 
an  entertainment  which  they  proposed  to  give 
at  New  Helvetia.  They  explained  to  him,  as  if 
he  had  not  grievous  cause  to  know  already,  that 
the  young  ladies  had  devised  a  series  of  tableaux 
followed  by  a  ball ;  that  the  children  had  scored 
a  stunning  success  in  a  "tacky  party;"  that  the 
married  people  had  preempted  the  not  very  origi 
nal  idea  of  afete  champetre,  and  to  preclude  any 
unmannerly  jumping  of  their  el  aim  had  fixed  the 
date,  wind  and  weather  permitting,  and  had  for 
mally  bidden  the  guests,  all  the  summer  birds  at 
New  Helvetia  Springs.  And  now  it  devolved 
upon  the  young  men  to  do  their  part  toward 


THE  JUGGLER.  367 

whiling  away  time  for  the  general  pleasure,  —  a 
task  for  which,  oddly  enough,  they  were  not  so 
well  equipped  as  one  might  imagine.  They  were 
going  to  give  a  dramatic  entertainment  upon  the 
stage  which  had  been  erected  for  the  tableaux  in  the 
ballroom,  and  which  still  stood,  it  being  cheaper, 
the  proprietor  had  remarked,  to  leave  it  there  than 
to  erect  it  anew;  for  no  one  could  be  sure  when 
the  young  people  would  want  it  again.  There 
would  be  college  songs  first,  glees  and  so  forth, 
and  they  made  much  of  the  prestige  of  a  banjo- 
player  in  their  ranks.  Some  acrobatic  feats  by 
the  more  athletic  youths  were  contemplated,  but 
much  uneasiness  was  felt  because  a  budding  littera 
teur —  this  was  again  Mr.  Seymour  —  was  giving 
token  of  a  total  breakdown  in  a  farce  he  was  writ 
ing  for  the  occasion,  entitled  "The  New  Woman," 
which,  although  beginning  with  aplomb  and  bril 
liancy,  showed  no  signs  of  reaching  a  conclusion, 
—  a  flattering  tribute  to  the  permanence  of  the 
subject.  Mr.  Seymour  might  not  have  it  com 
pleted  by  the  date  fixed.  The  skill  of  this  amateur 
prestidigitator  would  serve  to  fill  the  breach  if  the 
playwright  should  not  be  ready ;  and  even  if  inspi 
ration  should  smile  upon  him  and  bring  him  in 
at  the  finish,  the  jugglery  would  enliven  the  long 
waits  while  the  scenes  were  being  prepared  and 
the  costumes  changed. 

Royce,  with  a  sudden  accession  of  prudence, 
refused  plumply;  a  sentiment  of  recoil  possessed 
him.  He  felt  the  pressure  of  the  surprise  and  the 


368  THE   JUGGLER. 

uncertainty  like  a  positive  pain  as  he  sat  perched 
on  the  high  window-sill,  and  gazed  out  into  tin- 
blank  unresponsiveness  of  the  undergrowth  of  tl  it- 
forest,  wilting  in  the  heat  of  a  hazy  noon.  The 
young  men  forbore  to  urge  him;  that  delicate 
point  of  offering  money,  obviously  so  very  nettling 
to  his  pride,  which  seemed  altogether  a  superfluous 
luxury  for  a  man  in  his  position,  hampered  t'l.-m. 
He  might,  however,  be  in  the  habit  of  giving  ex 
hibitions  for  pay;  for  aught  they  knew,  the  di-- 
cussion  of  the  honorarium  was  in  order.  But  they 
had  been  schooled  by  the  incident  of  the  morning; 
even  the  quarter  of  a  dollar  which  had  lent  its««lf 
to  the  nimble  gyrations  of  legerdemain  hud  found 
its  way  by  some  unimagined  art  of  jugglery  into 
the  ]>ocket  of  its  owner,  and  Millden  Seymour, 
who  had  a  bland  proclivity  to  smooth  rough  places 
and  enjoy  a  refined  peace  of  mind,  was  swearing 
by  all  his  gods  that  it  should  stay  then-  until  more 
appropriately  elicited. 

An  odd  thing  it  was,  Royoe  was  feeling,  that 
without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  should  accept 
the  box  receipts  of  the  "show"  in  the  Cove,  on 
which  he  had  subsisted  for  weeks,  and  yet  in  his 
uttermost  necessity  he  could  not  have  brooked  ap 
pearing  as  a  juggler  before  the  sojourners  at  N»-w 
Helvetia  Springs  for  his  own  benefit.  The  one 
audience  represented  the  general  public,  he  sup 
posed,  and  was  far  from  him.  The  other  he  felt  as 
his  own  status,  his  set;  and  he  could  as  soon  have 
handed  around  the  hat,  after  one  of  the  snug  little 


THE  JUGGLER.  369 

bachelor  dinners  he  used  to  be  so  fond  of  giving 
in  St.  Louis,  as  ask  remuneration  for  his  assist 
ance  in  this  amateur  entertainment  of  the  young 
butterflies  at  New  Helvetia. 

He  burst  into  abrupt  and  sardonic  laughter  as 
he  divined  their  line  of  cogitation,  and  realized 
how  little  they  could  imagine  the  incongruities  of 
his  responsive  mental  processes.  In  the  quick 
change  from  a  pondering  gravity  to  this  repellent 
gayety  there  was  something  of  the  atmosphere  of 
a  rude  rebuff,  and  a  certain  dignity  and  distance 
informed  the  manner  of  the  few  who  still  lounged 
about  with  their  cigars.  Royce  hastened  to  nullify 
this.  They  had  shown  much  courtesy  to  one  of 
his  low  degree,  and  although  he  knew  —  from  ex 
perience,  poor  fellow  —  that  it  was  prompted  not 
so  much  by  a  perception  of  his  deserts  as  by  a 
realization  of  their  own,  it  being  the  conduct  and 
sentiment  which  graced  them  and  which  they  owed 
to  persons  of  their  condition,  he  had  no  wish  to  be 
rude,  even  though  it  might  seem  that  he  owed  a 
man  in  his  position  nothing. 

"Oh,  I  '11  help  you,"  he  said  hastily,  "though 
we  shall  have  to  rig  up  some  sort  of  properties. 
But  I  don't  need  much." 

The  talk  fell  upon  these  immediately,  and  he 
forthwith  perceived  that  he  was  in  for  it.  And 
why  not  ?  he  asked  himself.  How  did  it  endanger 
him,  or  why  should  he  shun  it?  All  the  Cove  and 
the  countryside  for  twenty  miles  around  knew  of 
his  feats  of  sleight  of  hand;  and  since  accident 


370  TIIK   JUGGLKR. 

had  revealed  his  knack  to  this  little  coterie  of  well- 
bred  and  well- placed  yoiing  men,  why  should  he 
grudge  the  exhibition  to  the  few  scores  of  ladies 
and  children  at  New  Helvetia,  to  aid  the  little 
diversion  of  the  evening?  His  scruples  could  have 
no  force  now,  for  this  would  bring  him  —  the 
social  pariah!  —  no  nearer  to  them  than  \\hen  he 
sat  by  the  tenpin  alley  and  humbly  watched  his 
betters  play.  The  episode  of  the  jugglery,  once 
past,  would  be  an  old  story  and  bereft  of  intere-i. 
He  would  have  had  his  little  day.  basking  in  the 
sun  of  the  applause  of  his  superiors,  and  would 
sink  back  to  his  humble  obscurity  at  the  side  of 
the  bowling-alley.  Should  he  show  any  dispo-i- 
tion  to  presume  upon  the  situation,  he  reali/.ed 
that  they  well  understood  the  art  of  repressing  a 
forward  inferior.  The  entertainment  contemplated 
no  subsequent  social  festivities.  The  programme. 
made  out  with  many  an  interlineation,  had  l>een 
calculated  to  occupy  all  the  time  until  eleven 
o'clock;  and  Koyce,  looking  at  it  with  the  accus 
tomed  eye  of  a  mana-.  r  <>t  private  theatricals,  felt 
himself  no  prophet  to  discern  that  midnight  would 
find  the  exhausted  audience  still  seated,  enjoying 
that  royal  good  measure  of  amusement  always 
meted  out  by  bounteous  amateurs.  Throughout 
the  evening  he  would  be  immured  with  the  other 
young  men  in  the  close  little  pens  which  served  for 
dressing  and  green  rooms, — for  all  the  actors  in 
the  farce  were  to  be  men,  — save  for  the  fraction 
of  time  when  his  jugglery  would  nece^>itate  hU 


THE  JUGGLER.  371 

presence  on  the  stage.  True,  Miss  Fordyce, 
should  she  patronize  the  entertainment,  might  then 
have  to  look  at  him  somewhat  more  discerningly 
than  she  would  look  at  the  wall,  perhaps!  It 
could  surely  do  her  no  harm.  She  had  seen  worse 
men,  he  protested,  with  eager  self-assertion.  She 
owed  him  that  much,  —  one  glance,  one  moment's 
cognition  of  his  existence.  It  was  not  much  to 
ask.  He  had  made  a  great  sacrifice  for  her  sake, 
and  all  unknown  to  her.  He  had  had  regard  to 
her  estimate  of  her  dignity  and  held  it  dear.  He 
had  done  her  reverence  from  the  depths  of  his 
heart,  regardless  that  it  cost  him  his  last  hope. 

The  powers  of  the  air  were  gradually  changing 
at  New  Helvetia  Springs.  The  light  of  the  days 
had  grown  dull  and  gray.  Masses  of  white  vapor 
gathered  in  the  valley,  rising,  and  rising,  and  fill 
ing  all  its  depths  and  slopes,  as  if  it  were  the 
channel  of  some  great  river,  till  only  the  long 
level  line  of  the  summit  of  the  opposite  range 
showed  above  the  impalpable  tides  in  the  simili 
tude  of  the  further  banks  of  a  great  stream.  It 
was  a  suggestive  resemblance  to  Lucien  Royce, 
and  he  winced  as  he  looked  upon  it.  He  was  not 
sorry  when  it  had  gone,  for  the  gathering  mists 
soon  pervaded  the  forests,  and  hid  cliffs  and 
abysses  and  even  the  familiar  path,  save  for  the 
step  before  the  eye,  and  in  this  still  whiteness  all 
the  world  was  lost ;  at  last  one  could  only  hear  — 
for  it  too  shared  the  invisibilities  —  the  rain  fall 
ing  steadily,  drearily,  all  the  day  and  all  the  long, 


372  THE  JUGGLER. 

long  hours  of  the  black  night.  The  bowling-alley 
was  deserted;  lawn-tennis  had  succumbed  to  tin- 
weather;  the  horses  stood  in  the  stalls.  One 
might  never  know  that  the  hotel  at  N»-w  Helvetia 
Springs  existed  except  that  now  and  again,  in 
convolutions  of  mist  as  it  rolled,  a  gable  high  up 
might  reveal  itself  for  a  moment,  or  a  peaked  tur 
ret;  unless  indeed  one  were  a  ghost,  to  find  some 
spectral  satisfaction  in  slipping  viewless  through 
the  white  enveloping  nullity,  and  gazing  in  at  tin- 
window  of  the  great  parlor,  where  a  log  fire  was 
ruddily  aflare  and  the  elders  perused  their  news 
papers  or  worked  their  tidies,  and  the  youth 
swung  in  rocking-chairs  and  exchanged  valu 
able  ideas,  and  played  cards,  and  read  a  novel 
aloud,  and  hung  in  groups  about  the  tortured 
piano.  So  close  stood  a  poor  ghost  to  the  window 
one  day,  risking  observation,  that  he  might  have 
read,  over  the  charming  outline  of  sloping  shoul 
ders  clad  faultlessly  in  soft  gray  cloth,  the  page  of 
the  novel  which  Miss  Fordyce  had  brought  there 
to  catch  the  light;  so  close  that  he  might  have 
heard  every  syllable  of  the  conversation  which 
ensued  when  the  man  in  whom  he  discovered  her 
destiny  —  the  cold,  inexpressive-looking,  personi 
fied  conventionality  —  came  and  sat  beside  her  on 
the  sofa.  But  the  poor  ghost  had  more  scruples 
than  reality  of  existence,  and,  still  true  to  the  sanc 
tions  that  control  gentlemen  in  a  world  in  \vlii.-h 
he  had  no  more  part,  he  turned  hastily  away  that 
no  syllable  might  reach  him.  And  as  he  turned 


THE  JUGGLER.  373 

he  ran  almost  into  the  arms  of  a  man  who  had 
been  tramping  heavily  up  and  down  the  veranda 
in  the  white  obscurities,  all  unaware  of  his  propin 
quity.  It  might  have  been  better  if  he  had ! 


XIV. 

FOR  there  were  strangers  at  New  Helvetia.  — 
two  men  who  knew  nobody  and  whom  nobody 
knew.  Perhaps  in  all  the  history  of  the  hotel  this 
instance  was  the  first.  The  patronage  of  N.-u 
Helvetia,  like  that  of  many  other  secluded  south 
ern  watering-places,-  had  been  for  generations 
among  the  same  clique  of  people,  all  more  or  less 
allied  by  kindred  or  hereditary  friendship,  or  close 
association  in  their  respective  homes  or  in  business 
interests,  and  the  traditions  of  the  place  were  com 
munity  property.  So  significant  was  the  event 
that  it  could  scarcely  escape  remark.  More  than 
one  of  the  hereditary  sojourners  observed  to  the 
others  that  the  distance  of  fifty  miles  from  a  rail 
road  over  the  worst  stage-road  in  America  seemed, 
after  all,  no  protection  from  the  intrusion  of 
strangers.  Here  were  two  men  who  knew  nobody, 
whom  nobody  knew,  and  who  seemed  not  even 
to  know  each  other.  One  was  a  quiet,  decorous, 
reserved  person  who  might  be  easily  overlooked 
in  a  crowd,  so  null  was  his  aspect.  The  other  had 
good,  hearty,  aggressive,  rustic  suggestions  about 
him.  He  was  as  stiffly  upright  as  a  ramrod,  and 
he  marched  about  like  a  grenadier.  He  smoked 
and  chewed  strong,  rank  tobacco.  He  flourished 


THE  JUGGLER.  375 

a  red-bordered  cotton  handkerchief.  He  had  been 
carefully  trimmed  and  shaved  by  his  barber  for 
the  occasion,  but  alas,  the  barber's  embellishments 
can  last  but  from  day  to  day,  and  the  rougher  guise 
of  his  life  was  betrayed  in  certain  small  habitudes, 
conspicuous  among  which  were  an  obliviousness  of 
many  uses  of  a  fork  and  an  astonishing  temerity 
in  the  thrusting  of  his  knife  down  his  throat  at 
the  dinner-table. 

The  two  strangers  appeared  on  the  evening  of 
the  dramatic  entertainment  among  the  other  guests 
of  the  hotel  in  the  ballroom,  as  spectators  of  the 
"Unrivaled  Attraction"  profusely  billed  in  the 
parlor,  the  office  of  the  hotel,  and  the  tenpin  alley. 
The  rain  dashed  tempestuously  against  the  long 
windows,  and  the  sashes  now  and  again  trembled 
and  clattered  in  their  frames,  for  the  mountain 
wind  was  rising.  Ever  and  anon  the  white  mist 
that  pressed  with  pallid  presence  against  the  panes 
shivered  convulsively,  and  was  torn  away  into  the 
wild  night  and  the  savagery  of  the  fastnesses  with 
out,  returning  persistently,  as  if  with  some  fatal  af 
finity  for  the  bright  lights  and  the  warm  atmosphere 
that  would  annihilate  its  tenuous  existence  with  but 
a  single  breath.  The  blended  sound  of  the  tor 
rents  and  the  shivering  gusts  was  punctuated  by  the 
slow  dripping  from  the  eaves  of  the  covered  walks 
within  the  quadrangle  close  at  hand,  that  fell  with 
monotonous  iteration  and  elastic  rebound  from  the 
flagging  below,  and  was  of  dreary  intimations  dis 
tinct  amid  the  ruder  turmoil  of  the  elements.  But 


376  THE  JUGGLKR. 

a  cheerful  spirit  pervaded  the  well-hooted  gue-t-. 
perhaps  the  more  grateful  for  tin-  provision  for 
pleasantly  passing  the  long  hours  of  a  rainy  even- 
ing  in  the  country,  since  it  did  not  snatch  tin  -in 
from  alternative  pleasures;  from  languid  strolls 
on  moonlit  verandas,  or  contemplative  cigars  in 
the  perfumed  summer  \\ood  >  under  the  stars,  or 
choice  conferences  with  kindred  spirits  in  the  little 
observatory  that  overhung  the  slopes.  Tin-  l*n- 
rivaled  Attraction  had  been  opportunely  timed  t<» 
fill  an  absolute  void,  and  it  could  not  have  been 
presented  before  more  leniently  di -posed  spectators 
than  those  rescued  from  the  jaws  of  unuttera lilt- 
ennui.  There  sounded  a  continuous  subduc<l  ripple 
of  laughter  and  stir  of  fans  and  murmur  of  talk 
amongst  them;  but,  although  richly  garbed  in 
compliment  to  the  occasion,  the  brilliancy  of  their 
appearance  was  somewhat  reduced  by  the  tempered 
light  in  which  it  was  essential  that  they  should 
sit  throughout  the  performance  and  between  the 
acts,  for  the  means  at  the  command  of  the  Un 
rivaled  Attraction  were  not  capable  of  compassing 
the  usual  alternations  of  illumination,  and  till- 
full  and  permanent  glare  of  splendor  was  reserved 
to  suffuse  the  stage.  The  audience  was  itself  an 
object  of  intense  interest  to  the  actors  behind 
the  scenes,  and  there  was  no  interval  in  which  the 
small  rent  made  in  the  curtain  for  the  purpose 
of  observation  was  not  utilized  by  one  or  another 
of  the  excited  youths,  tremulous  with  premonitions 
of  a  fiasco,  from  the  time  when  the  first  group* 


THE  JUGGLER.  377 

entered  the  hall  to  the  triumphant  moment  when 
it  became  evident  that  all  New  Helvetia  was  turn 
ing  out  to  honor  the  occasion,  and  that  they 
were  to  display  their  talents  to  a  full  house.  It 
was  only  when  the  stir  of  preparation  became  tu 
multuous  —  one  or  two  intimations  of  impatience 
from  the  long-waiting  audience  serving  to  admon 
ish  the  performers  —  that  Lucien  Royce  found  an 
opportunity  to  peer  out  in  his  turn  upon  the  scene 
in  the  dusky  clare-obscure.  Here  and  there  the 
yellow  globes  of  the  shaded  lamps  shed  abroad 
their  tempered  golden  lustre,  and  occasionally 
there  came  to  his  eye  a  pearly  gleam  from  a  flut 
tering  fan,  or  the  prismatic  glitter  of  a  diamond, 
or  the  ethereal  suggestion  of  a  girl  in  white  in 
the  midst  of  such  sombre  intimations  of  red  and 
brown  and  deeply  purple  and  black  in  the  costumes 
of  the  dark-robed  elders  that  they  might  hardly  be 
accounted  as  definite  color  in  the  scale  of  chromatic 
values.  With  such  a  dully  rich  background  and 
the  dim  twilight  about  her,  the  figure  and  face  of 
the  girl  he  sought  showed  as  if  in  the  glamours  of 
some  inherent  light,  reminding  him  of  that  illumi 
nating  touch  in  the  method  of  certain  painters 
whose  works  he  had  seen  in  art  galleries,  in  which 
the  radiance  seems  to  be  in  the  picture,  inde 
pendent  of  the  skylight,  and  as  if  equally  visible 
in  the  darkest  night.  She  wore  a  green  dress 
of  some  silken  texture,  so  faint  of  hue  that  the 
shadows  of  the  soft  folds  appeared  white.  It  was 
fashioned  with  a  long,  slim  bodice,  cut  square  in 


/•//A     .1 1'l 

the  neck,  and  a  high,  flaring  ruff  of  «!  li«-:itr  old 
lace,  stiff  with  a  Medici  effect,  tliat  rose  framing 
the  rounded  throat  and  small  head  \\itli  it-  close 
and  high-piled  coils  of  Mack  hair,  through  which 
was  thrust  a  small  comb  of  carved  coral  <-f  tin- 
palest  possible  hue.  She  might  have  been  a  ]>i<  - 
tnre,  so  still  and  silent  she  sat,  so  definitely  did 
the  light  emanate  from  her,  so  completely  did  tin- 
effect  of  the  pale,  lustrous  tints  of  her  attire  reduce 
to  the  vague  nullities  of  a  mere  background  tin- 
nebulous  dark  and  neutral  shades  about  her.  I  low 
long  Koyce  stood  and  gazed  with  all  his  heart  in 
his  eyes  he  never  knew  .  1 1.  -a\\  naught  cl-e.  11,- 
heard  naught  of  the  stir  of  the  audience,  or  the 
wild  win. I  without,  or  the  babel  upon  the  stage 
where  he  was.  He  came  to  himself  only  when  he 
was  clutched  by  the  arm  and  admonished  to  clear 
the  track,  for  at  last  the  curtain  was  to  be  rung 
up. 

What  need  to  dwell  on  the  tremulous  eagerm--- 
and  wild  de-pair  of  that  moment,  -the  glee  club 
all  ranged  in  order  on  the  stage,  and  with  heart - 
thumping  expectation,  the  brisk  and  self-sufficient 
tinkle  of  the  Ml,  the  utter  blank  iiumovaKl. 
of  the  curtain,  the  subdued  delight  of  the  audience? 
Another  tintinnabulation,  agitated  and  OjUerul.ni- : 
a  mighty  tug  at  the  wings;  a  shiver  in  the  fabric, 
a  sort  of  convulsion  of  the  texture,  and  the  curtain 
goes  up  in  >l»w  doubt, — all  awry  and  bias,  it  is 
true,  but  still  revealing  the  "musiciancrs,"  a  trifle 
dashed  and  taken  aback,  but  meeting  a  warm  and 


THE  JUGGLER.  379 

reassuring  reception  which  they  do  not  dream  is 
partly  in  tribute  to  the  clownish  tricks  of  the  cur 
tain. 

Royce,  suddenly  all  in  heart,  exhilarated  by  the 
mere  sight  of  her,  flung  himself  ardently  into  the 
preparations  progressing  in  the  close  little  pens  on 
either  side  and  at  the  rear  of  the  stage.  The 
walls  of  these  were  mere  partitions  reaching  up 
only  some  ten  feet  toward  the  ceiling,  and  they 
were  devoid  of  any  exit  save  through  the  stage 
and  the  eye  of  the  public.  Hence  it  had  been 
necessary  that  all  essentials  should  be  carefully 
looked  to  and  provided  in  advance.  Now  and 
then,  however,  a  wild  alarum  arose  because  of  the 
apparent  non-existence  of  some  absolutely  indis 
pensable  article  of  attire  or  furniture,  succeeded 
by  embarrassed  silence  on  the  part  of  the  mourner 
when  the  thing  in  question  was  found,  and  a  meek 
submission  to  the  half -suppressed  expletives  of  the 
rest  of  the  uselessly  perturbed  company.  It  was 
a  scene  of  mad  turmoil.  Young  men  already  half 
clad  in  feminine  attire  were  struggling  with  the 
remainder  of  their  unaccustomed  raiment,  —  the 
actors  to  take  part  in  the  farce  "The  New  Wo 
man."  Others  were  in  their  white  flannel  suits, 
—  no  longer  absolutely  white,  —  hot,  dusty,  per 
spiring,  the  scene-shifters  and  the  curtain  contin 
gent,  all  lugubriously  wiping  their  heated  brows 
and  blaming  one  another.  The  mandolin  and 
banjo  players,  in  faultless  evening  dress,  stood  out 
of  the  rush  and  kept  themselves  tidy.  And  now 


.".>'<>  777 K  JUGGLER 

arose  a  nice  question,  in  tli<  discussion  of  which 
all  took  part,  becoming  oblivious,  for  the  time,  of 
the  audience  without  and  the  tra-la-la-ing  of  tin- 
glee  singers,  the  boyish  tones  of  argument  occa 
sionally  rising  above  these  m» -lodious  numbers.  It 
was  submitted  that  in  case  the  audience  should  call 
for  the  author  of  "The  New  Woman,"  —  and  it 
would  indeed  be  unmannerly  t<»  omit  this  tribute, 
—  the  playwright  ought  to  be  in  full  dress  to  re 
spond,  considering  the  circumstances,  the  place, 
and  the  full  dress  of  the  audience.  And  here  he 
was  in  his  white  flannel  trousers  and  a  pink-and- 
white  striped  blazer  at  this  hour  of  the  ni^ht,  and 
his  room  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  in  a  pitching 
mountain  rain,  whither  certain  pn •> -Uians  would 
fain  have  him  hie  to  bedizen  himself.  He  listened 
to  this  with  a  downcast  eye  and  a  sinking  heart, 
and  doubtless  would  have  acted  on  the  admonition 
save  for  the  ludicrous  effect  of  emerging  before 
the  audience  as  he  was.  and  n-tiirning  to  meet  the 
same  audience  in  the  blaze  of  full-dress  glory. 

"It 's  no  use  talking,"  he  said  at  last,  decisively. 
"We  are  caught  here  like  rats  in  a  trap.  There 
is  no  way  of  getting  out  without  being  seen.  I 
wonder  I  didn't  think  to  have  a  door  cut." 

Repeatedly  there  rose  on  the  air  the  voice  of 
one  who  was  a  slow  study  repeating  the  glib  lines 
of  "The  New  Woman;"  and  once  something  very 
closely  approximating  a  quarrel  ensued  upon  the 
discovery  that  the  budding  author,  already  par-i- 
monious  with  literary  material,  had  transferred  a 


THE  JUGGLER.  381 

joke  from  the  mouth  of  one  character  to  that  of 
another ;  the  robbed  actor  came  in  a  bounding  fury 
and  with  his  mother's  false  hair,  mildly  parted  and 
waving  away  from  his  fierce,  keen  young  face  and 
flashing  eyes,  to  demand  of  the  author-manager 
its  restoration.  His  decorous  stiffly  lined  skirts 
bounced  tumultuously  with  his  swift  springs  for 
ward,  and  his  fists  beneath  the  lace  frill  of  his 
sleeves  were  held  in  a  belligerent  muscular  adjust 
ment. 

"It's  my  joke,"  he  asseverated  vehemently,  as 
if  he  had  cracked  it  himself.  "My  speech  is 
ruined  without  it,  world  without  end !  I  will  have 
it  back!  I  will!  I  will!  "  he  declared  as  violently 
as  if  he  could  possess  the  air  that  would  vibrate 
with  the  voice  of  the  actor  who  went  on  first,  and 
could  put  his  collar  on  the  syllables  embodying  the 
precious  jest  by  those  masterful  words,  "I  will! " 

The  manager  had  talents  for  diplomacy,  as  well 
he  should.  He  drew  the  irate  antique-seeming 
dame  into  the  corner  by  the  lace  on  the  sleeve  and, 
looking  into  the  wild  boyish  face,  adjured  him, 
"Let  him  have  it,  Jack,  for  the  love  of  Heaven. 
He  does  it  so  badly,  and  he  is  such  a  slow  study, 
that  I  'm  afraid  the  first  act  will  break  down  if  I 
don't  give  it  some  vim;  after  you  are  once  on,  the 
thing  will  go  and  I  shan't  care  a  red." 

And  so  with  the  dulcet  salve  of  a  little  judicious 
flattery  peace  came  once  more. 

Royce,  as  he  took  his  place  upon  the  narrow 
stage,  felt  as  if  he  had  issued  from  the  tumultuous 


382  TV/A  . 

currents  of  some  wild  rapids  into  the  deep  and 
restful  placidities  of  a  dark  untroubled  pool.  Tin- 
air  of  compoMire,  the  silence,  the  courteous  atten 
tion  of  the  audience,  all  marked  a  transition  so 
abrupt  that  it  had  a  certain  perturbing  effect.  II. 
had  never  felt  more  ill  at  ease,  and  perhaps  he  had 
never  looked  more  composed  than  when  he  advanced 
and  stood  bowing  at  the  footlights.  He  had  for 
gotten  his  assumed  character  of  a  mountaineer,  his 
coarse  garb,  his  intention  to  seek  some  manner 
that  might  consist  with  both.  He  was  inaugurat 
ing  his  share  of  the  little  amateur  entertainment 
with  a  grace  and  address  and  refinement  of  style 
that  were  astonishing  his  audience  far  more  than 
aught  of  magic  that  his  art  could  command,  al 
though  his  resources  were  not  slight.  He  seemed 
some  well-bred  and  talented  youth  of  the  best  so 
ciety,  dressed  for  a  rural  role  in  private  theatri 
cals.  Now  and  again  there  was  a  flutter  of  in 
quiry  here  and  there  in  the  audience,  answered  by 
the  whispered  conclusions  of  Tom  or  Jack,  retailed 
by  mother  or  sister.  For  the  youth  of  New  Hel 
vetia  Springs  had  accepted  the  explanation  that  he 
was  out  of  a  position,  "down  on  his  luck,"  and 
hoped  to  get  a  school  in  Etowah  Care.  He  had 
gone  by  the  sobriquet  of  "the  handsome  mountain 
eer,"  and  then  "the  queer  mountaineer,"  and  now, 
"He  is  no  mountaineer,"  said  the  discerning  Judge 
Fordyce  to  a  man  of  his  own  stamp  at  his  elbow. 

What  might  have  been  the  estimate  of  the  two 
strangers  none  could  say.      They  sat  on  opposite 


THE  JUGGLER.  383 

sides  of  the  building,  taking  no  note  of  each  other, 
both  steadily  gazing  at  the  alert  and  graceful  figure 
and  the  handsome  face  alight  with  intelligence, 
and  made  no  sign.  One  might  have  been  more 
competent  than  the  other  to  descry  inconsistencies 
between  the  status  which  the  dress  suggested  and 
the  culture  and  breeding  which  the  manner  and 
accent  and  choice  of  language  betokened,  but  both 
listened  motionless  as  if  absorbed  in  the  prestidigi 
tator's  words. 

Royce  had  made  careful  selection  among  his 
feats  in  view  of  the  character  of  his  audience,  and 
the  sustaining  of  such  poor  dignity  as  he  might 
hope  to  possess  in  Miss  Fordyce's  estimation. 
There  were  no  uncouth  tricks  of  swallowing  impos 
sible  implements  of  cutlery,  which  sooth  to  say 
would  have  vastly  delighted  the  row  of  juvenile 
spectators  on  the  front  bench.  Perhaps  they  were 
as  well  content,  however,  with  the  appearance  of 
two  live  rabbits  from  the  folds  of  the  large  white 
silk  handkerchief  of  an  old  gentleman  in  the  crowd, 
borrowed  for  the  purpose,  and  the  little  boy  who 
came  up  to  receive  the  article  for  restoration  to  its 
owner  went  into  an  ecstasy  of  cackling  delight, 
with  the  whole  front  row  in  delirious  refrain,  to 
find  that  he  had  one  of  the  live  rabbits  in  each  of 
the  pockets  of  his  jacket,  albeit  the  juggler  had 
merely  leaned  over  the  footlights  to  hand  him  back 
the  handkerchief.  The  audience  applauded  with 
hearty  good  will,  and  a  general  ripple  of  smiles 
played  over  the  upturned  faces. 


384  THE  JUGGLER. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  juggler,  pick 
ing  up  a  small  and  glittering  object  from  tin-  table, 
"if  I  may  ask  your  attention,  you  will  ol»er\e  that 
each  chamber  of  this  revolver  is  loaded 

With  his  long,  dt-lieate,  .left  white  hands  he  had 
turned  aside  the  barrel,  and  now  held  the  weapon 
up,  the  two  parts  at  right  angles,  each  cartridge 
distinctly  visible  to  the  audience. 

But  a  sudden  authoritative  voice  arose.  "No 
pistols!"  called  out  a  sober  paterfamilias,  respon 
sible  for  four  boys  in  the  audience. 

•  V>  pistols!"  echoed  Judge  Forclyce. 

There  had  been  a  momentary  shrinking  among 
the  ladies,  whose  curiosity,  however,  was  greater 
than  their  fear,  and  who  sustained  a  certain  doubt 
ful  and  disappointed  aspect.  But  the  shadowy 
bullet-heads  of  the  whole  front  row  of  small  boys 
were  turned  with  one  accord  in  indignant  and  un- 
h'lial  protest. 

Royce  understanding  in  a  moment,  with  a  quick 
smile  shifted  all  the  cartridges  out  into  his  hand. 
held  up  the  pistol  once  more  so  that  all  might 
the  light  through  the  empty  chamliers  of  the  cylin 
der,  then,  with  an  exaggerated  air  of  caution,  laid 
all  the  shells  in  a  small  heap  on  one  of  the  little 
tables  and  the  pistol,  still  dislocated,  on  another 
table,  the  breadth  of  the  stage  between  them ;  and 
with  a  satiric  "Hey!  Presto!"  bowed,  laughing 
and  complaisant,  to  a  hearty  round  of  applause 
from  the  elders.  For  although  his  compliance 
with  their  behest>  had  1 11  :i  trifle  ironical,  the 


THE   JUGGLER.  385 

youths  of  New  Helvetia  were  not  accustomed  to 
submit  with  so  good  a  grace  or  so  completely. 

The  two  elderly  strangers  accommodated  the 
expression  of  their  views  to  the  evident  opinion  of 
those  of  their  time  of  life,  applauding  when  the 
gentlemen  about  them  applauded,  maintaining  an 
air  of  interest  when  they  were  receptive  and  atten 
tive.  Was  it  possible,  one  might  wonder  in  look 
ing  at  them,  that  differences  so  essential  could  be 
unremarked  — -  that  it  was  not  patent  to  the  most 
casual  observer  that  they  had  some  far  more  seri 
ous  reason  for  their  presence  than  the  indulgent 
laudation  of  the  amateur  entertainment  which  in 
spired  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the  youthful 
performers?  The  perspicacity  of  the  casual  ob 
server,  however,  was  hampered  by  the  haze  of  the 
pervasive  obscurity;  from  the  stage  each  might 
seem  to  the  transient  glance  merely  a  face  among 
many  faces,  the  divergences  of  which  could  be  dis 
cerned  only  when  some  intention  or  interest  in 
formed  the  gaze. 

Lucien  Royce  saw  only  that  oasis  in  the  gloom 
where  the  high  lights  of  Miss  Fordyce's  delicately 
tinted  costume  shone  in  the  dusk.  He  was  keenly 
mindful  of  a  flash  of  girlish  laughter,  the  softly 
luminous  glance  of  her  eye,  the  glimmer  of  her 
white  teeth  as  her  pink  lips  curled,  the  young  de 
light  in  her  face.  How  should  he  care  to  note  the 
null,  impassive  countenance  of  the  one  man,  the 
grizzled  stolid  bourgeois  aspect  of  the  other? 

The  manager,  keenly  alive  to  the  success  of  the 


386  THE  JUGG1.H: 

entertainment,  advanced  a  number  of  tin-  pro 
gramme  since  the  pistol  trick  was  discarded. 
Having  observed  the  fate  of  this  from  the  win--. 
he  handed  to  Royce  a  flower-pot  filled  with  earth 
for  a  feat  which  it  had  been  his  intention  to  reserve 
until  after  the  first  act  of  the  play. 

"Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  juggler, 
"oblige  me  by  looking  at  this  acorn.  It  is  consid 
ered  quite  harmless.  True,  it  will  shoot,  too,  if 
you  give  it  half  a  chance;  but  I  am  told,"  with  a 
planer  .,t'  i-aillrrv.  "that  it-  pr«  -j.-et  il.-  .-(Vrct-  aiv  m>t 
deleterious  in  any  respect  to  the  human  anatomy." 

The  ladies  who  had  l>een  afraid  of  the  pistol 
laughed  delightedly,  and  the  guyed  elderly  gentle 
men  good-naturedly  responded  in  another  round  of 
applause,  so  grateful  were  they  to  have  no  shooting 
on  the  stage,  and  no  possible  terrifying  accidents 
to  their  neighbors,  themselves,  and  their  respec 
tive  families. 

"There  is  nothing  but  i»nlveri/«-d  earth  in  this 
flower-pot,"  continued  the  juggler,  running  his 
hand  through  the  fine  white  sand,  and  >haking  off 
the  particles  daintily,  "a  little  too  sandy  to  suit 
my  views  and  experience  in  arboriculture,  but  we 
shall  see  —  what  we  shall  see!  I  plant  the  acorn, 
thus!  I  throw  this  cloth  over  the  flower-pot, 
drawing  it  up  in  a  peak  to  give  air.  And  now, 
since  we  shall  have  to  wait  for  a  few  moments,  I 
shall,  with  your  kind  indulgence,  beguile  the  te 
dium,  in  imitation  of  the  jongleurs  of  eld,  with  a 
little  song." 


THE  JUGGLER.  387 

The  audience  sat  patient,  expectant.  A  guitar 
was  lying  where  one  of  the  glee  singers  had  left  it. 
Royce  turned  and  caught  it  up,  then  advanced 
down  toward  the  footlights,  and  paused  in  the  pic 
turesque  attitude  of  the  serenader  of  the  lyric 
stage.  He  drew  from  the  instrument  a  few  strong 
resonant  chords,  and  then  it  fell  a-tinkling  again. 

But  what  new  life  was  in  the  strings,  what  mel 
ody  in  the  air?  And  as  his  voice  rose,  the  scene- 
shifters  were  silent  in  the  glare  of  the  pens ;  the 
actors  thronged  the  wings ;  the  audience  sat  spell 
bound. 

No  great  display  of  art,  to  be  sure!  But  the 
mountain  wilds  were  without,  and  the  mountain 
winds  were  abroad,  and  there  was  something 
strangely  sombre,  romantic,  akin  to  the  suggestion 
and  the  sound  in  the  rich  swelling  tones  of  the 
young  voice  so  passionately  vibrant  on  the  air. 
Though  obviously  an  amateur,  he  sang  with  a  care 
ful  precision  that  bespoke  fairly  good  advantages 
amply  improved,  but  the  singing  was  instinct  with 
that  ardor,  that  love  of  the  art,  that  enthusiasm, 
which  no  training  can  supply  or  create.  The 
music  and  the  words  were  unfamiliar,  for  they 
were  his  own.  Neither  was  devoid  of  merit.  In 
deed,  a  musical  authority  once  said  that  his  songs 
would  have  very  definite  promise  if  it  were  not  for 
a  determined  effort  to  make  all  the  science  of  har 
mony  tributary  to  the  display  of  Lucien  Royce's 
high  A.  A  recurrent  strain  now  and  again  came, 
interfluent  through  the  drift  of  melody,  rising  with 


388  ////.    .//  GGLER. 

a  certain  ecstatic  elasticity  to  that  sustained  tone, 
which  was  soft,  yet  strong,  and  as  sweet  as  summer. 

As  his  voice  thus  rang  out  into  the  silence  \sith 
all  its  pathos  and  its  passion,  lie  turned  his  eyes 
on  the  eyes  he  had  so  learned  to  love,  and  met 
tli<».  nrl.*.  full  of  delight  and  of  surprise  and  a 
patent  admiration,  fixed  upon  his  face.  The  rest 
of  the  song  he  sang  straight  at  Gertrude  Koidyce, 
and  she  looked  at  the  singer,  her  gaze  never  -\M-I-\- 
ing.  For  once  his  plunging  heart  in  triumph  frit 
he  had  caught  and  lnM  lit  r  Attention;  for  once, 
he  said  to  himself,  she  did  not  look  at  him  as  im 
personally  as  if  he  were  the  side  of  the  wall. 

It  was  over  at  last,  and  he  was  Rowing  his  ac- 
knowledgmeutB  to  the  wildly  applauding  audience. 
The  juggler}-  was  at  a  discount.  Hr  had  drawn 
off  the  white  cloth  from  the  flower-pot,  where  a 
strongly  rooted  young  oak  shoot  two  frrt  hi^h 
appeared  to  have  grown  while  he  sang.  Hut  t  la 
w-alls  of  the  room  n--oundi-d  with  tin-  turlmlrnt 
clamors  of  an  insistent  encore.  Only  tin-  r\<>*  of 
the  rustic-looking  stranger  were  starting  out  of  his 
head  as  he  gazed  at  the  oak  shoot,  and  there  came 
floating  softly  through  his  lips  the  involuntary 
comment,  "By  gum !  " 

It  was  necessary  in  common  courtesy  to  sing  at 
least  the  last  stanza  again,  and  as  the  juggler  did 
so  he  was  almost  happy  in  singing  it  anew  to  her 
starry  eyes,  and  noting  tin-  flush  on  her  cheeks, 
and  the  surprise  and  pleasure  in  her  beautiful  face. 
Tin-  miracle  of  the  oak  shoot  went  um  xplained. 


THE  JUGGLER.  389 

for  ail  New  Helvetia  was  still  clapping  a  recall 
when  the  juggler,  bowing  and  bowing,  with  the 
guitar  in  his  hand,  and  ever  retreating  as  he  bowed, 
stepped  off  at  one  of  the  wings  for  instructions, 
and  was  met  there  by  renewed  acclamations  from 
his  fellow  entertainers. 

"You  'd  better  bring  on  the  play  if  you  don't 
want  to  hold  forth  here  till  the  small  hours,"  he 
said,  flushed,  and  panting,  and  joyous  once  more. 

But  the  author-manager  was  of  a  different  mind. 
The  child  of  his  fancy  was  dear  to  him,  although 
it  was  a  very  grotesque  infant,  as  indeed  it  was 
necessary  that  it  should  be.  He  deprecated  sub 
mitting  it  to  the  criticism  of  an  unwilling  audience, 
still  clamoring  for  the  reappearance  of  another 
attraction.  However,  there  would  not  be  time 
enough  to  respond  to  this  encore,  and  yet  bring 
the  farce  on  with  the  deliberation  essential  to  its 
success,  and  the  effect  of  all  its  little  points. 

"You  seem  to  be  the  star  of  the  evening,"  he 
said  graciously.  "And  I  should  like  to  hear  you 
sing  again  myself.  But  we  really  have  n't  time. 
As  they  are  so  delighted  with  you,  suppose,  by 
way  of  letting  them  down  gently,  we  give  them 
another  sight  of  you  by  moving  up  the  basket  trick 
on  the  programme,  instead  of  letting  it  come  be 
tween  the  second  and  third  acts  of  the  play,  —  we 
have  had  to  advance  the  feat  that  was  to  have 
come  between  the  first  and  second  acts,  anyhow, 
—  and  have  no  jugglery  between  the  acts." 

Royce  readily  agreed,  but  the  manager  still  hesi- 


THE  JUGGLER. 

tated  while  the  house  thumped  and  clappc.!  it- 
recall  in  great  impatience,  and  a  young  hobblede 
hoy  slipped  slyly  upon  the  stage  and  facetiously 
bowed  hi*  acknowledgments,  with  his  hand  upon 
his  heart,  causing  spasms  of  delight  among  the 
juvenile  contingent  and  some  laughter  from  tin 
elders. 

Said  the  hesitating  manager,  unconscious  of 
this  interlude,  "I  don't  half  like  that  basket  trick." 

"Why?"  demanded  the  juggler,  surprised. 
"It's  tlu-  best  tiling  I  can  do.  And  when  we 
rehearsed  it,  I  thought  we  had  it  down  to  a  fine 
point." 

"Yes,"  still  hesitating,  "but  I'm  afraid  it's 
dangerous." 

The  juggler  burst  into  laughter.  "It 's  as  dan 
gerous  as  a  pistol  loaded  with  blank  cartridges! 
See  here,"  he  cried  joyously,  turning  with  out 
spread  arms  to  the  group  of  youths  fantastic  in 
their  stage  toggery,  "  I  call  you  all  to  witness  — 
if  ever  Millden  Seymour  hurts  me,  I  intended  to 
let  him  do  it.  Come  on !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  differ 
ent  tone.  "  I  'm  obliged  to  have  a  confederate  in 
this,  and  we  have  rehearsed  it  without  a  break 
time  and  again." 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  on  the  stage,  side 
by  side,  and  the  audience,  seeing  that  no  more 
minstrelsy  was  in  order,  became  reconciled  to  the 
display  of  magic.  A  certain  new  element  of  inter 
est  was  infused  into  the  proceedings  by  the  fact 
that  another  person  was  introduced,  and  that  it 


THE   JUGGLER.  391 

was  Seymour  who  made  all  the  preparations,  inter 
spersing  them  with  jocular  remarks  to  the  audi 
ence,  while  the  juggler  stood  by,  silent  and  acqui 
escent.  He  seemed  to  be  the  victim  of  the  manager, 
in  some  sort,  and  the  juvenile  spectators,  with 
beating  hearts  and  open  mouths  and  serious  eyes, 
watched  the  proceedings  taken  against  him  as  his 
arms  were  bound  with  a  rope  and  then  a  bag  of 
rough  netting  was  slipped  over  him  and  sewed 
up. 

"I  have  him  fast  and  safe  now,"  the  manager 
declared.  "He  cannot  delude  us  with  any  more 
of  his  deceits,  I  am  sure." 

The  juggler  was  placed  at  full  length  on  the 
floor  and  a  white  cloth  was  thrown  over  him.  The 
manager  then  exhibited  a  large  basket  with  a  top 
to  it,  which  he  also  thrust  under  the  cloth.  Tak 
ing  advantage  of  the  evident  partisanship  of  the 
children  for  their  entertainer,  he  spoke  for  a  few 
minutes  in  serious  and  disapproving  terms  of  the 
deceits  of  the  eye,  and  made  a  very  pretty  moral 
arraignment  of  these  dubious  methods  of  taking 
pleasure,  which  was  obviously  received  in  high 
dudgeon.  He  then  turned  about  to  lead  his  cap 
tive,  hobbled  and  bound,  off  the  stage.  Lifting 
the  cloth  he  found  no  trace  of  the  juggler;  the 
basket  with  the  top  beside  it  was  revealed,  and 
on  the  floor  was  the  netting,  —  a  complete  case 
with  not  a  mesh  awry  through  which  he  could  have 
escaped.  The  manager  stamped  about  in  the  empty 
basket  and  finally  emerged  putting  on  the  top  and 


392  THE  JUGGLER. 

cording  it  up.  Whereupon  one  antagonistic  youth 
in  the  audience  opined  that  the  juggler  was  in  the 
basket. 

"He  is,  is  he?"  said  the  manager,  looking  up 
sharply  at  the  bullet-headed  row.  "Then  what 
do  you  think  of  this,  and  this,  and  this?  " 

He  had  drawn  the  sharp  bowie-knife  with  which 
Royce  had  furnished  him,  and  was  thrusting  it  up 
to  the  hilt  hi-re.  there,  everywhere  through  tin- 
interstices  of  the  wickerwork.  This  convinced  tin- 
audience  that  in  some  inscrutable  manner  tin- 
juggler  had  been  spirited  away,  impossible  though 
it  might  seem.  The  stage,  in  the  full  glare  of  nil 
the  lamps  at  New  Helvetia  Springs,  was  in  view 
from  every  part  of  the  house,  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  management  of  the  Unrivaled  Attraction 
was  incapable  of  stage  machinery,  trap-doors,  or 
any  similar  appliance.  In  the  midst  of  the  discus 
sion,  very  general  over  the  house,  the  basket  began 
to  roll  about.  The  manager  viewed  it  with  the 
affectation  of  starting  eyes  and  agitated  terror  for 
a  moment.  Then,  pouncing  upon  it  in  wrath,  he 
loosened  the  cords,  took  off  the  top,  and  pulled  out 
the  juggler,  who  was  received  with  acclamations, 
and  who  retired,  bowing  and  smiling  and  backing 
off  the  stage,  the  hero  of  the  occasion. 

Seymour  behind  the  scenes  was  giving  orders 
to  ring  down  the  curtain  to  prepare  the  stage  for 
"The  New  Woman." 

"Don't  do  it  unless  you  mean  it  for  keeps, 
Mill,"  remonstrated  the  property-man.  "The 


THE  JUGGLER.  393 

devil 's  in  the  old  rag,  I  believe.  It  might  not  go 
up  again  easily,  and  I  'm  sure,  from  the  racket  out 
there,  they  are  going  to  have  the  basket  trick  over 
again." 

For  the  front  row  of  bullet-heads  was  conduct 
ing  itself  like  a  row  of  gallery  gods,  and  efferves 
cing  with  whistlings  and  shrill  cries.  The  ap 
plause  was  general  and  tumultuous,  growing  louder 
when  the  over-cautious  father  called  out  "No  pis 
tols  and  no  knives  !  " 

"Oh,  they  can  take  care  of  themselves,"  said  a 
former  adherent  of  his  proposition,  for  the  feat 
was  really  very  clever,  and  very  cleverly  exploited, 
and  he  was  ready  to  accredit  a  considerable  amount 
of  sagacity  to  youths  who  could  get  up  so  amusing 
an  entertainment.  No  one  was  alert  to  notice  — 
save  his  mere  presence  as  some  messenger  or  pur 
veyor  of  properties  —  a  dazed-looking  young  moun 
taineer,  dripping  with  the  rain,  who  walked  down 
the  main  aisle  and  stepped  awkwardly  over  the 
footlights,  upon  the  stage.  He  paused  bewildered 
at  the  wings,  and  Lucien  Royce  behind  the  scenes, 
turning,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Owen 
Haines.  The  sight  of  the  wan,  ethereal  counte 
nance  brought  back  like  some  unhallowed  spell  the 
real  life  he  had  lived  of  late  into  the  vanishing 
dream-life  he  was  living  now.  But  the  actualities 
are  constraining.  "You  want  me?"  he  said,  with 
a  sudden  premonition  of  trouble. 

"I  hev  s'arched  fur  you-uns  fur  days,"  Haines 
replied,  a  strange  compassion  in  his  eyes,  contem- 


394  /•///;  JUGGLER. 

plating  which  Lucien  Royce  felt  his  Mood  go  cold. 
"  But  the  Simses  deceived  me  ez  ter  whar  ye  be ; 
they  never  told  me  till  ter-night,  an'  then  I  hed 
ter  tell  'em  why  I  wanted  you-uns." 

"Why?"  demanded  liovce,  spellbound  l>y  tin- 
look  in  the  man's  eyes,  and  almost  overmastered  l»y 
the  revulsion  of  feeling  in  tin-  last  moment,  tin- 
quaking  of  an  unnamed  terror  at  hi>  heart. 

Nevertheless,  with  his  acute  and  versatile  facul 
ties  he  heard  the  clamors  of  the  recall  still  thun 
dering  in  the  auditorium,  he  noted  the  passing  of 
the  facetiously  bedight  figures  for  the  farce.  He 
was  even  aware  of  glances  of  curiosity  from  one  or 
two  of  the  scene-shifters,  and  had  the  prudence  to 
draw  Haines,  who  heard  naught  and  saw  only  the 
face  before  him,  into  a  corner. 

"Why?"  reiterated  Royce.  "Why  do  you 
want  me?" 

"Bekase,"  said  Haines,  "Peter  Knowles  seen 
ye  fling  them  queer  shoes  an'  belt  an'  d»tlu  > 
inter  the  quicklime,  an'  drawed  the  idee  ez  ye  hed 
slaughtered  somebody  bodaciously,  an'  kivcrcd  '« m 
thar  too." 

The  juggler  reddened  slightly  at  the  mention  of 
the  jaunty  attire  and  the  thought  of  its  sacrifice, 
but  he  was  out  of  countenance  before  the  sentence 
was  concluded,  and  gravely  dismayed. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  he  exclaimed,  seeking  to  reas 
sure  himself.  "They  would  have  to  prove  that 
somebody  is  dead  to  make  that  charge  stick." 

Then  he  reali/ed  the  seriousness  of  such  an  nc- 


THE  JUGGLER.  395 

cusation,  the  necessity  of  accounting  for  himself 
before  a  legal  investigation,  and  this,  to  escape 
one  false  criminal  charge,  must  needs  lead  to  a 
prosecution  for  another  equally  false.  The  alter 
native  of  flight  presented  itself  instantly.  "I  can 
explain  later,  if  necessary,  as  well  as  now,"  he 
thought.  "I  'm  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you 
for  telling  me,"  he  added  aloud,  but  to  his  amaze 
ment  and  terror  the  man  was  wringing  his  hands 
convulsively  and  his  face  was  contorted  with  the 
agony  of  a  terrible  expectation. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  he  said  huskily.  Then,  with 
a  sudden  hope,  "Is  thar  enny  way  out'n  this  place 
'ceptin'  yon?  "  he  nodded  his  head  toward  the  ball 
room  on  the  other  side  of  the  partition. 

"No,  none,"  gasped  Royce,  his  nerves  beginning 
to  comprehend  the  situation,  while  it  still  baffled 
his  brain. 

"I  'm  too  late,  I  'm  too  late!  "  exclaimed  Haines 
in  a  tense,  suppressed  voice.  "The  sher'ff  's  thar, 
'mongst  the  others,  in  that  room.  I  viewed  him 
thar  a  minit  ago." 

Assuming  that  he  knew  the  worst,  Royce's  cour 
age  came  back.  With  some  wild  idea  of  devising 
a  scheme  to  meet  the  emergency,  he  sprang  upon 
the  vacant  stage,  on  which  the  curtain  had  been 
rung  down  despite  the  applause,  still  resolutely 
demanding  a  repetition  of  the  feat,  and  through 
the  rent  in  the  trembling  fabric  swiftly  surveyed 
the  house  with  a  new  and,  alas,  how  different  a 
motive !  His  eyes  instantly  fixed  upon  the  rustic 


396  THE  JUGGLER. 

face,  the  hair  parted  far  to  the  side,  as  tin-  sheriff 
vigorously  stamped  his  feet  an<l  chipped  his  hands 
in  approbation.  That  oasis  of  refined,  ideal  light 
where  Miss  Fordyce  sat  did  not  escape  Royce's  at 
tention  even  at  this  crisis.  Had  he  indeed  brought 
this  sorry,  ignoble  fate  upon  himself  that  he  might 
own  one  moment  in  her  thoughts,  one  glance  of 
her  eye,  that  he  might  sing  his  song  to  her  ear'.' 
He  had  certainly  achieved  this,  he  thought  sardoni 
cally.  *She  would  doubtless  remember  him  to  the 
last  day  she  should  live.  He  wondered  if  they 
would  iron  him  in  the  presence  of  the  ladies. 
Could  he  count  upon  his  strong  young  muscles  to 
obey  his  will  and  submit  without  resistance  when 
the  officers  should  lay  their  hands  upon  him,  and 
thus  avoid  a  scene? 

And  all  at  once  —  perhaps  it  was  the  sweet  look 
in  her  face  that  made  all  gentle  things  seem  possi 
ble —  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  despaired  too 
easily.  An  arrest  might  not  be  in  immediate  con 
templation,  —  the  corpus  (/</!<  f  I  was  impossible  of 
proof.  He  could  surely  make  such  disposition  of 
his  own  property  as  seemed  to  him  fit,  and  the 
explanation  that  he  was  at  odds  with  his  friends, 
dead-broke,  thrown  out  of  business  in  the  recent 
panic,  might  pass  muster  with  the  rural  officer, 
since  no  crime  could  be  discovered  to  involve  the 
destruction  of  the  clothes.  Thus  he  might  still 
remain  unidentified  with  Lucien  Royce,  who  pre 
tended  to  be  dead  and  was  alive,  who  hud  had  in 
trust  a  large  sum  of  money  in  a  belt  which  was 


THE  JUGGLER.  397 

found  upon  another  man,  robbed,  and  perhaps  mur 
dered  for  it.  The  sheriff  of  Kildeer  County  had 
never  dreamed  of  the  like  of  that,  he  was  very  sure. 
The  next  moment  his  heart  sank  like  lead,  for 
there  amongst  the  audience,  quite  distinct  in  the 
glooms,  was  the  sharp,  keen,  white  face  of  a  man 
he  had  seen  before,  —  a  detective.  It  was  but 
once,  yet,  with  that  idea  of  crime  rife  in  his  mind, 
he  placed  the  man  instantly.  He  remembered  a 
court-room  in  Memphis,  during  the  trial  of  a  cer 
tain  notable  case,  where  he  had  chanced  to  loiter 
in  the  tedium  of  waiting  for  a  boat  on  one  of  his 
trips  through  the  city,  and  he  had  casually  watched 
this  man  as  he  gave  his  testimony.  His  presence 
here  was  significant,  conclusive,  to  be  interpreted 
far  otherwise  than  any  mission  of  the  sheriff  of  the 
county.  Royce  did  not  for  one  moment  doubt  that 
it  was  in  the  interests  of  the  Marble  Company,  the 
tenants  of  the  estate  per  autre  vie,  although  the 
criminal  charge  might  emanate  directly  from  the 
firm  whose  funds  had  so  mysteriously  disappeared 
from  his  keeping,  whose  trust  must  now  seem  so 
basely  betrayed.  There  was  no  possible  escape; 
the  stanch  walls  of  the  building  were  unbroken 
even  by  a  window,  and  the  only  exit  from  behind 
the  partition  was  through  the  stage  itself  in  full 
view  of  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  officers.  Any 
effort,  any  action,  would  merely  accelerate  the 
climax,  precipitate  the  shame  of  the  arrest  he 
dreaded,  —  and  in  her  presence !  He  felt  how  hard 
the  heart  of  the  cestui  que  vie  was  thumping  at  the 


398  /•///:  7 roo /.A A' 

prospect  of  the  summary  resu>< -nation.  !!»•  said 
to  himself,  with  his  ironical  habit  of  mind,  that  he 
had  found  dying  a  far  easier  matter.  But  there 
was  no  responsive  satire  in  the  hunted  look  of  his 
hot,  wild,  glancing  eyes,  the  quiver  of  every  muscl*-. 
the  cold  thrills  that  successively  trembled  through 
the  nervous  fibres.  He  looked  so  unlike  himself 
for  the  moment,  as  he  turned  with  a  violent  start 
on  feeling  the  touch  of  a  hand  on  his  arm,  that 
Seymour  paused  with  some  deprecation  and  uiit  •  i  - 
taint \ .  Then  with  a  renewed  intention  the  man 
ager  said  persuasively,  "You  won't  mind  doing 
it  over  again,  will  you?  You  see  they  won't  be 
content  without  it." 

A  certain  element  of  surprise  was  blended  with 
the  manager's  cogitations  which  he  remembered 
afterward  rather  than  realized  at  the  moment.  It 
had  to  do  with  the  altered  aspect  of  the  man,  — a 
sudden  grave  tumultuous  excitement  which  hi- 
manner  and  glance  bespoke;  but  the  perception  of 
this  was  subacute  in  Seymour's  mind  and  subordi 
nate  to  the  awkward  dilemma  in  which  he  found 
himself  as  manager  of  the  little  enterprise.  There 
was  not  time,  in  justice  to  the  rest  of  the  pro 
gramme,  to  repeat  the  basket  trick,  and  had  the 
farce  been  the  work  of  another  he  would  have 
rung  the  curtain  up  forthwith  on  its  first  scene. 
But  the  pride  and  sensitiveness  of  the  author  for 
bade  the  urging  of  his  own  work  upon  the  atten 
tion  of  an  audience  still  clamorously  insistent  upon 
the  repetition  of  another  attraction,  and  hardly 


THE  JUGGLER.  399 

likely,  if  balked  of  this,  to  be  fully  receptive  to 
the  real  merits  of  the  little  play. 

Seymour  remembered  afterward,  but  did  not 
note  at  the  time,  the  obvious  effort  with  which  the 
juggler  controlled  his  agitation.  "Oh,  anything 
goes!"  he  assented,  and  in  a  moment  more  the 
curtain  had  glided  up  with  less  than  its  usual  con 
vulsive  resistance.  They  were  standing  again  to 
gether  with  composed  aspect  in  the  brilliance  of 
the  footlights,  and  Seymour,  with  a  change  of 
phrase  and  an  elaboration  of  the  idea,  was  dilating 
afresh  upon  the  essential  values  of  the  positive  in 
life ;  the  possible  pernicious  effects  of  any  delusion 
of  the  senses;  the  futility  of  finding  pleasure  in 
the  false,  simply  because  of  the  flagrancy  of  its 
falsity ;  the  deleterious  moral  effects  of  such  exhi 
bitions  upon  the  very  young,  teaching  them  to 
love  the  acrobatic  lie  instead  of  the  lame  truth,  — 
from  all  of  which  he  deduced  the  propriety  of  tying 
the  juggler  up  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  But 
the  bullet-heads  were  not  as  dense  as  they  looked. 
They  learned  well  when  they  learned  at  all,  and 
the  pauses  of  this  rodomontade  were  filled  with 
callow  chuckles  and  shrill  whinnies  of  appreciative 
delight,  anticipative  of  the  wonder  to  come.  They 
now  viewed  with  eager  forwarding  interest  the 
juggler's  bonds,  little  dreaming  what  grim  pro 
phecy  he  felt  in  their  restraint,  and  the  smallest 
boy  of  the  lot  shrilly  sang  out,  when  all  was  done, 
"Give  him  another  turn  of  the  rope! " 

Seymour,  his  blond  face  flushed  by  the  heat  and 


400  rilH   .IfGGLER. 


his  exertions  to  the  hue  of  his  pink  -and  -white 
blazer,  ostentatiously  wrought  another  knot,  and 
down  the  juggler  went  on  the  floor,  encased  in  the 
unbroken  netting;  the  cloth  was  thrown  over  tin 
man  and  the  basket,  and  Seymour  tinned  anew  to 
the  audience  and  took  up  the  thread  of  his  dis 
course.  It  came  as  trippingly  off  his  tongue  as 
before,  and  in  the  dusky  gray-purple  ha/e,  the 
seeming  medium  in  which  the  audience  sat,  fair. 
smiling  faces,  full  of  expectation  and  attention, 
looked  forth  their  approval,  and  now  and  a^ain 
broke  into  laughter.  When,  having  concluded  \\\ 
announcing  that  he  intended  to  convey  the  discom 
fited  juggler  off  the  stage,  he  found  naught  under 
the  cloth  but  the  empty  net  without  a  mc-h  awry, 
the  man  having  escaped,  his  rage  was  a  trifle  more 
pronounced  than  before.  With  a  wild  gestmv  he 
tossed  the  net  out  to  the  spectators  to  bid  them 
observe  how  the  villain  had  outwitted  him.  and 
then  sprang  into  the  basket  and  stamped  tumultu- 
ously  all  around  in  the  interior,  evidently  covering 
every  square  inch  of  its  surface.  while  the  detec 
tive's  keen  eyes  watched  with  an  eager  intensity. 
as  if  the  only  thought  in  his  mind  concerned  the 
miracle  of  the  juggler's  withdrawal.  Out  Sey 
mour  plunged  finally,  and  with  dogged  resolution 
he  put  the  lid  on  and  began  to  cord  up  the  basket 
as  if  for  departure. 

"Save  the  little  you  've  got  left,"  whinnied  out 
a  squirrel-toothed  mouth  from  the  front  bench. 
almost  too  broadly  a-grin  for  articulation. 


THE  JUGGLER.  401 

"Get  a  move  on  ye, — get  a  move!"  shouted 
another  of  the  callow  youngsters,  reveling  in  the 
fictitious  plight  of  the  discomfited  manager  as  if  it 
were  real. 

He  seemed  to  resent  it.  He  looked  frowningly 
over  the  footlights  at  the  front  row,  as  it  hugged 
itself  and  squirmed  on  the  bench  and  cackled  in 
ecstasy. 

"I  wish  I  had  him  here!  "  he  exclaimed  gruffly. 
"I'd  settle  him  —  with  this  —  and  this  —  and 
this !  "  Each  word  was  emphasized  with  the  suc 
cessive  thrusts  of  the  sharp  blade  of  the  bowie- 
knife  through  the  wickerwork. 

"That 's  enough!  That 's  enough!  "  the  remon 
strant  elderly  gentleman  in  the  audience  admon 
ished  him,  and  he  dropped  the  blade  and  came 
forward  to  beg  indulgence  for  the  unseemly  and 
pitiable  position  in  which  he  found  himself  placed. 
He  had  barely  turned  his  back  for  a  moment, 
when  this  juggler  whom  he  had  taken  so  much 
pains  to  secure,  in  order  to  protect  the  kind  and 
considerate  audience  from  further  deceits  of  a 
treacherous  art,  mysteriously  disappeared,  and 
whither  he  was  sure  he  could  not  imagine.  He 
hesitated  for  a  moment  and  looked  a  trifle  em 
barrassed,  for  this  was  the  point  at  which  the 
basket  should  begin  to  roll  along  the  floor.  He 
gave  it  a  covert  glance,  but  it  was  motionless  where 
he  had  left  it.  Raising  his  voice,  he  repeated  the 
words  as  with  indignant  emphasis,  thinking  that 
the  juggler  had  not  caught  the  cue.  He  went  on 


402  THE  JUGGLKi: 

speaking  at  random,  but  his  words  came  less  freely ; 
the  audience  sat  expectant;  the  basket  still  lay 
motionless  on  the  Hour.  Seeing  that  he  must  needs 
force  the  crisis,  he  turned,  exclaiming  with  up 
lifted  hands,  "Do  my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  is  that 
basket  stirring,  rolling  on  the  floor?" 

P>ut  no;  the  basket  lay  a>  Mill  as  he  had  left  it. 
There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence  in  the  audi 
ence.  His  face  grew  suddenly  white  and  chill,  his 
eyes  dilated  —  fixed  on  something  dark,  and  slow, 
and  sinuous,  trickling  down  the  inclined  plane  of 
the  stage.  He  sprang  forward  with  a  shrill  excla 
mation,  and,  catching  up  the  bowie-knife,  severed 
\vith  one  stroke  the  cords  that  bound  the  basket. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  he  gasped  in  a  tremulous 
voice  to  the  silence  beneath  the  lid,  and  as  he 
tossed  it  aside  he  recoiled  abruptly,  rising  to  his 
feet  with  a  loud  and  poignant  cry,  "Oh,  my  G<><1 ! 
he  is  dead !  he  is  dead  ?  " 

The  sudden  transition  from  the  purely  festival 
character  of  the  atmosphere  to  the  purlieus  of  grim 
tragedy  told  heavily  on  every  nerve.  There  was 
one  null  moment  blank  of  comprehension,  and 
then  women  were  screaming,  and  more  than  one 
fainted;  the  clamor  of  overturned  benches  added 
to  the  confusion,  as  the  men,  with  grim  set  faces 
and  startled  eyes,  pressed  forward  to  the  stage; 
the  children  cowered  in  mute  affright  close  below 
the  footlights,  except  one  small  creature  who 
thought  it  a  part  of  the  fun,  not  dreaming  what 
death  might  be,  and  was  laughing  aloud  in  high- 


THE  JUGGLER.  403 

keyed  mirth  down  in  the  dusky  gloom.  A  physi 
cian  among  the  summer  sojourners,  on  a  flying  visit 
for  a  breath  of  mountain  air,  was  the  first  man  to 
reach  the  stage,  and,  with  the  terror-stricken  Sey 
mour,  drew  the  long  lithe  body  out  and  straight 
ened  it  on  the  floor,  as  the  curtain  was  lowered  to 
hide  the  ghastly  mise  en  scene  which  it  might  be 
terror  to  women  and  children  to  remember.  His 
ready  hand  desisted  after  a  glance.  The  man  had 
died  from  the  first  stroke  of  the  bowie-knife,  pene 
trating  his  side,  and  doubtless  lacerating  the  outer 
tissues  of  the  heart.  The  other  strokes  were  regis 
tered,  —  the  one  on  his  hand,  the  other,  a  slight 
graze,  on  the  neck.  A  tiny  package  had  fallen  on 
the  floor  as  the  hasty  hands  had  torn  the  shirt 
aside  from  the  wound :  the  deft  professional  fingers 
unfolded  it,  —  a  bit  of  faded  flower,  a  wild  purple 
verbena;  the  physician  looked  at  it  for  a  moment, 
and  tossed  it  aside  in  the  blood  on  the  floor,  unin 
terested.  The  pericardium  was  more  in  his  line. 
He  was  realizing,  too,  that  he  could  not  start  to 
morrow,  as  he  had  intended,  for  his  office  and  his 
rounds  among  his  patients.  The  coroner's  jury 
was  an  obstinate  impediment,  and  his  would  be 
expert  testimony. 

Upon  this  inquest,  held  incongruously  enough 
in  the  ballroom,  the  facts  of  the  information  which 
Owen  Haines  had  brought  to  the  juggler  and  the 
presence  of  the  officers  in  the  audience  were  eli 
cited,  and  added  to  the  excitements  incident  to  the 
event.  The  friends  of  young  Seymour,  who  was 


101  mi:   .ll'GGLER. 

overwhelmed  by  the  tragedy,  believed  and  con 
tended  that  since  escape  from  prosecution  for  some 
crime  was  evidently  impossible,  the  juggler  had  in 
effect  committed  suicide  by  holding  up  his  left 
arm  that  the  knife  might  pierce  a  vital  part.  Thu> 
they  sought  to  avert  the  sense  of  responsibility 
which  a  man  must  needs  feel  for  so  terrible  a  deed 
wrought,  however  inadvertently,  by  his  own  hand. 
But  crime  as  a  factor  seemed  doubtful.  The 
sheriff,  indeed,  upon  the  representations  of  Sim-. 
supplemented  by  the  mystery  of  the  lime-kiln 
which  Knowles  had  disclosed,  had  induced  the 
detective  to  accompany  him  to  the  mountains  to 
seek  to  identify  the  stranger  as  a  defaulting  eashier 
from  one  of  the  cities  for  whose  apprehension  a 
goodly  amount  of  money  would  be  paid.  But  in 
no  respect  did  Royce  correspond  to  the  perpetrator 
of  any  crime  upon  the  detective's  list. 

"He  needn't  have  been  afraid  of  me,"  he  ob 
served  dryly;  "I  saw  in  a  minute  he  wasn't  our 
fellow.  And  I  was  just  enjoying  myself  mightily." 

The  development  of  the  fact  of  the  presence  of 
the  officers  and  the  juggler's  knowledge  that  they 
were  in  the  audience  affected  the  physician's  testi 
mony  and  his  view  of  the  occurrence.  He  ac 
counted  it  an  accident  —  the  nerve  of  the  young 
man,  shaken  by  the  natural  anxiety  at  finding 
himself  liable  to  immediate  arrest,  was  not  suffi 
cient  to  carry  him  through  the  feat;  he  failed  to 
shift  position  with  the  celerity  essential  to  the 
basket  trick,  and  the  uplifting  of  the  arm,  which 


THE  JUGGLER.  405 

left  the  body  unprotected  to  receive  the  blow,  was 
but  the  first  effort  to  compass  the  swift  movements 
necessary  to  the  feat.  The  unlucky  young  man 
ager  was  exonerated  from  all  blame  in  the  matter, 
but  the  verdict  was  death  by  accident. 

Nevertheless,  throughout  all  the  years  since,  the 
argument  continues.  Along  the  verge  of  those 
crags  overlooking  the  valley,  in  the  glamours  of 
a  dreamy  golden  haze,  with  the  amethystine  moun 
tains  on  the  horizon  reflecting  the  splendors  of  the 
sunset  sky,  and  with  the  rich  content  of  the  sum 
mer  solstice  in  the  perfumed  air;  or  amongst  the 
ferns  about  the  fractured  cliffs  whence  the  spring 
wells  up  with  a  tinkling  tremor  and  exhilarant 
freshness  and  a  cool,  cool  splashing  as  of  the  veri 
table  fountain  of  youth;  or  in  the  shadowy  twi 
light  of  the  long,  low  building  where  the  balls  go 
crashing  down  the  alleys;  or  sometimes  even  in 
the  ballroom  in  pauses  of  the  dance  when  the 
music  is  but  a  plaint,  half -joy,  half -pain,  and  the 
wind  is  singing  a  wild  and  mystic  refrain,  and  the 
moonlight  comes  in  at  the  windows  and  lies  in 
great  blue-white  silver  rhomboids  on  the  floor  de 
spite  the  dull  yellow  glow  of  the  lamps,  —  in  all 
these  scenes  which  while  yet  in  life  Lucien  Royce 
haunted,  with  a  sense  of  exile  and  a  hopeless  sev 
erance,  as  of  a  man  who  is  dead,  the  mystery  of 
his  fate  revives  anew  and  yet  once  more,  and  con 
tinues  unexplained.  Conjecture  fails,  conclusions 
are  vain,  the  secret  remains.  Hey !  Presto !  The 
juggler  has  successfully  exploited  his  last  feat. 


PTTM 
CAMMIDGB,  MASSACHVUTTt,  V.  «.  A. 

BLBCT*OTYHU>  AND  r«INT»D  «V 
H.  O.  HOVCHTON  AND  CO. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  U  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUH  2  4  1958 

SEP  3      1958 
KMI  *2 


AUQ  1  3 


Form  L9-100m-9,>52(A3105)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UBIWRYFACILITY 


A  A      000071050    9 


PS 


1  11  IS 


I    I! 


